Tabula Rasa
by krazyhippo66
Summary: Pre-Season 1 AU. After being terrorized by Hoyt, Jane is desperate to rid herself of the physical and psychological scars left behind. Maura is desperate to quell her seemingly inescapable solitude, even after running across the globe from it. Don't forget the mind-erasing escort service. Dollhouse AU. Rizzles. M for Chapter 5.
1. This is

**A/N: I do not own this universe or any of the characters in it. None of them.**

* * *

Jane wrung her hands as she tried to sit still in the empty room. The vibe it gave off was not something she was very comfortable with. The modern furniture, the frosted glass, the _palm trees_. It felt very futuristic dystopia. Very. But that's basically what she had signed up for. The Dollhouse. As science-fiction as it came.

She had first heard of the Dollhouse two months ago. Right after being retrieved from Hoyt's cellar. She remembered her time with him clearly. Like a brand, seared directly into her brain. Into her eyes. Into every nerve ending in her entire body. Everything after that got foggy, to say the least. She remembered Korsak. She _vaguely_ remembered the ambulance. After that, though, everything sort of faded together.

_Hands. She felt hands. _

_One set. No, three._

_No, just one. His._

_No. _

_Maybe four sets. Ten._

_At her feet, her arms, her legs, her head. Her sides, her stomach, her hips. Everywhere and nowhere._

_Her brain yelled at her. Telling her something. Trying to._

_"Jane!" she heard._

_Hoarse and frantic. Her mother. Mother. Ma._

_She forced her eyes open, only to see men, women, clad in pastels and cartoons and everything in between. Each was clutching at a part of her, fear in their faces. Etched in every crease, every depth and hue of their eyes._

_People, lots of people._

_Her eyes shot around the room, trying to understand. Where was she? What was…where was…?_

_She saw her mother. Standing to the side, eyes wide. Flowers she had purchased on the way in still clutched in her death-grip, stems bending. Their eyes met, and relief flooded the older woman's stance, all the way up to her turquoise eyes._

_Real._

_Not real._

_"Janie," she breathed, taking a step closer. "You're safe. You're here. With me, you're right here."_

_Her words were muddled up by tears. She reached out tentatively, hesitantly toward her daughter, fingers trembling._

_No. Not real._

_Jane felt her own lungs expel all their air in a scream. Rough and scratchy and desperate as she once again tugged at the arms restraining her._

_Was it arms?_

_Her body felt tired, sedate, no matter how hard she tried to kick._

_Get out. Get out, she needed to get out. _

_Hoyt was in her head. She had let him in._

_And now she couldn't get out._

How many times she had went through that process, Jane wasn't sure. But she remembered waking up quite often, and every time, she couldn't quite place reality. Eventually, she had woken up, restrained by padded cuffs instead of hands. From then on, no one had stayed around to talk her down. They had just left her.

_Safe. Safe. You're safe._

_The words didn't sound right in her head._

_She closed and unclosed her fists, wincing with every tensed muscles._

_But they were free. No more metal through them._

_She blinked, trying to focus on something. Anything._

_Teddy bear. Korsak._

_Flowers. Ma._

_Card. Pop._

_Ice and sweets. Frankie._

_Pain shot up her arm. Her body jerked._

_Stay. Stay here. This is right._

_She opened her eyes again, this time looking above her._

_Ceiling. Ceiling was good and familiar; she could work with it._

_Real, and bright, and _white_. It wasn't a basement._

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

_She looked down at herself. So many things came from her. Pads and cuffs and wires and tubes. _

_I.V...I..V?_

_She followed the clear tube. Up and up and up._

_Morphine._

_If she could just…turn it off. Turn it off and she'd stay here. _

_Or she'd die._

_Either one worked for her._

_Her fingers stretched for the valve, but they shook._

_They shook. Stung. Burned._

_She whimpered._

_"Stop."_

_The voice was low. Raspy like her own. Like a chain smoker. Like smoke holding her up._

_But it was so clear._

_She turned her head toward the source. In the bed next to hers, just a little ways away was another woman. Tanned skin. Chocolate hair. Round face. Doe eyes. She didn't face Jane. She just stared at the ceiling._

_"I…I can't," Jane couldn't grip the words, the dryness of her throat giving her no friction. Air just rushed out._

_She needed to stay in reality. She needed the woman to know—_

_"Can't? Yeah. Can't focus, can't think," the woman laughed, dark and low and unamused. "Morphine really jacks ya up, doesn't it?"_

_"W-how—"_

_"Shh," she shushed. "Just…stay with me, okay?"_

_Notes of genuine concern hung in the question._

_"Stay with me and I'll try to keep you here."_

_She paused to see if Jane would protest, but Jane didn't have the strength. She collapsed back into her bed, her eyes closing._

_Just as she started to question where she was again, the woman's voice was back._

_"I was just a kid. A silly naïve kid. Thought I could change the world."_

_Even though she couldn't force her eyes open, Jane could see the woman. Strong and defiant, fighting through the darkness inside her own head._

_"Animal rights activist, some people called me. I guess they'd be right. We'd been planning this heist for months. Get into Rossum's headquarters. Get proof of the animal cruelty acts they were committing with all their research and then….blow it up. An act of terrorism. But…when we actually got there….I just…There's a lot worse things going on at Rossum besides animal cruelty."_

_The room was quiet as she paused, her intake of breath heavy. Like the weight of the world. And Jane was hanging on it. Clinging._

_"People," she breathed, almost in disbelief. "They were testing…people. But not just…testing. There was…There were…people. But they weren't…people. They were like….robots. But flesh and blood. Living. They were…programmed. Erased and refilled. Over and over and over."_

_Jane's ears rung with the silence the woman left behind. She did not inhale or exhale. She did not shift. They sat in perfect, painful silence for what felt like an eternity._

_"And I got caught," the woman whimpered. "They found me. Now I gotta pay the price."_

_Jane worked to find her voice, every part of her body defying her. Her hands would not close. Her arms would not move. Her lips would not form clear words._

_"Why…" she tried. "tellme?"_

_This earned her a laugh. A pitiful, tear-filled, attempt to cover the pain. But still a laugh._

_"Because," the word came, vulnerable. "I'm…as good as dead anyway. I need…someone to know the truth. Even…even if you are high or low or…drugged."_

_Jane wanted to ask her. Why would she be dead? What about jail? What about the illegal things Rossum was doing? But she had been lucky to get three words out at all._

_Instead, she forced her eyes opened, turning on her side as best she could. She looked pleadingly across the room, tugging at her restraints, and their eyes locked. Brown to brown. Fear to fear. Tears with tears. And she hadn't needed to ask._

_"They're gonna make me one of 'em," the woman forced out as tears built up more in her eyes. "They're gonna take my mind and wipe it clean and never give it back…" she whispered. "I'll never be real again. I'll never be me…"_

_Jane had seen the tears falling onto the woman's face and she was gone again. Back in the basement._

_Karenna (blonde…?) was sobbing beside her on the dirty mattress, quiet begging spilling out between the gasps and shudders._

_"Jane, God Jane stay awake," the blonde woman's shrill whisper came. "You have to get us out. You can do it, just stay. Awake."_

_Jane blinked away the tears blocking her vision, trying to see Karenna better, but it wasn't just her tears blinding her. It was the pain. The searing pain trailing cold and hot from her palms, through her arms, right to her head._

_The pain was gone._

_Karenna was gone._

_The low timber of her hospital roommate's voice was back, steady in its cadence._

_"My name is Caroline Farrell. I'm twenty-three years old. My parents died when I was eight. I grew up in Orange County…" she repeated it over and over, as if to remember. As if it would save her. "My name is Caroline Farrell…"_

Even today. Jane remembered her voice. Those words, repeating in her head, shaky with fear, yet low in determination.

After that, though, things got blurry again. She had passed out, then woken up, only to find Caroline gone. The only indication she was ever there was the solitary metal handcuffs still hanging from the bed railing.

How much of what she remembered about Caroline was true, she was not sure. She had been drugged, her blood spiked with both the morphine and the adrenaline of her post-Hoyt encounter. She could have still been hallucinating. But in all honesty, it didn't matter _how much_ was real, because the fact that even a piece of Caroline's story was true made Jane almost positive she hadn't imagined a single word.

What Caroline had talked about, the programmable, empty, robot-like people, was called the Dollhouse. After a month of research, Jane had caught a trail. Just a faint, barely existent one. But she had followed it none the less, driven by a fire burning deep within her. This place, this Dollhouse was exactly what she needed. A way out of the world. A way out of Hoyt.

How did she know for sure Caroline's story was true? How did she know the Dollhouse existed? She was sitting in it. Right then and there, she was sitting in an office thirty floors below a Rossum corporation skyscraper smack in the middle of Boston, waiting to see if they would accept her, take her in.

Along with her research as to _where_ it was, also came more information of _what_ it really was.

And that simple. It was a business.

A really sick, scary business of the simplest, most common illegal form. Prostitution. Right out there in the open, yet anyone who didn't want to see it, didn't.

It boiled down to three different types of people that did business with Rossum. The first was the rich or powerful that needed play-things. That was their consumers. Then there were they actual bodies they needed. Those came from two places. The first was criminals. If the asked criminals agreed to spend their time working for the Dollhouse, with the standard five year contract, it would count as their full sentence. Done and done.

The other, final type? They were people with traumas. Serious, deep, overpowering traumas, because the process they used to create these programmable people numbed the pain of memories. Working the body and mind to its breaking point took the edge off any traumatic memories the person held.

And that was the boat Jane was in. She needed them to take Hoyt from her. Even if it was just a little. But at the same time, it still felt so wrong. People shouldn't have that kind of power. To play with what the mind sees or remembers. It shouldn't be possible.

And she remembered the fear in Caroline's eyes. Like the Dollhouse was worse than hell. It gave Jane pause, yet at the same time, she was _already_ in her own personal hell. Hadn't slept in weeks. Hadn't been allowed to go back to work. She was going insane, and this seemed like her only way out. But it still felt bad. Very bad. Evil.

Jane's mind raced as she sat there, fighting with herself. Stay or don't. Even if she had wanted to leave, what would she do then? This was her only way out. Well, not exactly. She'd spent many a night just staring at her gun, but even through all her desperation, she still wasn't _that_ desperate.

Then again, she could always try and handle her issues like anyone else would have to. The long way. She could just get up and walk away before the meeting started, but she kept her body rooted firmly in place, nervous none the less.

Kneading her palms, she glanced around once again, her eyes lingering on the security camera. She was getting a bad feeling in her gut, but she pushed it down. This was something she needed, she told herself again. She needed it.

Her thumb pressed into her palm the wrong way and she winced, immediately hit with more flashing images. Ones she didn't want to see. She closed her eyes, only to see them more vividly. Hoyt. On top of her. Holding her down.

Her heart pounded faster, the still too-fresh psychological wound splitting open once again. The same cold terror she felt before was collapsing in on her now. She felt his hand gliding down her arms, a dull burning on her neck.

"Jane Rizzoli?"

Jane jumped at the sound of the British voice behind her, pulled gratefully out of her flashback, and turned around. Adelle DeWitt. The older woman certainly looked as strict as her voice sounded.

Her dark hair was pulled back in a low bun, not a strand out of place. Her eyes, near the pupil, were that of a piercing gray, fading to an icy blue until the outer ring of color ended in pristine white. Even with her shorter stature, she filled the room. Jane could imagine her in a locker room full of massive football players, and she would still be the strongest presence. How did she know that? She felt it now. She felt small, lesser than the woman standing before her. Her attire was business professional, the pencil skirt pressed so perfectly, Jane could barely believe the woman had been working for six hours already. It made her feel very conscious of her own fairly worn and disheveled clothing, so she chose to stay seated.

"Yes," she finally spoke.

"Don't affirm a question of which you didn't know the implication," she said curtly, striding over to sit at the table.

Something about the woman intimidated Jane, a rare occurrence, and she instantly sat up just a little straighter.

"I…I'm sorry. What did I misinterpret, Ms. Dewitt?" Jane asked carefully.

"You assumed that my question was to affirm that you were, in fact, Jane Rizzoli, when my question was in a tone that said 'Jane Rizzoli? What on Earth are you doing here?' There. _Now_ you may answer."

Jane just looked at her, stunned. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to understand the question.

"Well…I called and…and talked with your people…and—"

"And nothing. They specifically told you to think more about it."

"I did."

"They meant serious thinking, Ms. Rizzoli. A year's worth of thinking."

"I couldn't wait that long. Will you do it or what?"

"For an officer of the law? I'm not sure we have much choice."

"Don't be coy with me," Jane muttered. "We both know full well you don't exist within the justice system. Nor could I—one person—do anything about it."

Adelle gave her a forced smile. "I'm glad we're on the same page."

"Maybe so, but are we on the same line?" Jane smirked.

"I don't think it's wise of you to be requesting our assistance."

All teasing left Jane, replaced with a cold fear that her opportunity was slipping through her fingers.

"Ms. DeWitt, I-I'm begging. I can't take one more night of nightmares, one more day of looking over my shoulder. I'm dying from fear of a man who's locked up in the deepest hole Boston had to offer, but I can't …shake him," Jane choked out her request. "It's like…like I'm down in that hole with him, and I want out. I-I _need _out."

"I _understand_ that, Ms. Rizzoli; we looked into your history. But there are other issues. The Actives we keep are generally solo in their life. No one would be looking for them. You…"

"You're the most sophisticated research facility in the world and you can't handle _one_ helicopter mom?"

"'Can't' isn't the right word. 'Prefer not to' is more accurate."

"You said you needed people. I'm here. I fit the requirements."

"More so than you know," DeWitt said calmly.

"So then say yes!" Jane said, exasperated.

The older woman stared at her for a long time, her jaw set firmly as she thought.

"It's five years of your life, Jane. Five years gone in the blink of an eye."

"That's fine!"

"You'll be thirty when you get out."

"And?"

"I'm just making sure you know. 'Voluntary informed consent' laws and all."

"Again, using laws to validate your point makes you kind of a hypocrite," Jane mumbled.

"It's a 'yes', Jane."

"Really?"

DeWitt sighed deeply, nodding.

"Yes, really," she affirmed, standing.

Jane followed suit, trying to smooth her wrinkled slacks.

"We'll be in touch," DeWitt said, giving a polite nod. "Welcome to the Dollhouse, Jane."

The detective could only half smile; she felt as though she had just made a deal with the Devil.

As soon as Jane left, Adelle DeWitt let out a small sigh. She wasn't a _complete_ ice queen. She hated signing new employees. New clients she could deal with.

Her phone rang and she answered it before the second ring.

"What?"

_"_Dewiiiitttt"_,_ a man called into the phone, his voice nervous, sing-song-y even. "I think you really need to get down here."

"I've another appointment in twenty, Topher; it had better be quick."

An uneasy laugh echoed back to her. "I'll try my best, your highness."

Snapping her phone shut, she couldn't help but scowl. She hated his sarcasm. Quickly, she made her way onto the elevator, its doors opening up on the lower floor and revealing chaos she did not want to see. The room that usually looked like a giant spa now looked like it was a giant spa from hell.

The elevator let her off onto a skywalk overlooking the obnoxiously large room below; the only other thing on this level was a room with frosted glass windows. This was the room where all the chaos was. That's where it always was. On the floor below, guards were running towards the stairs and that little room. They weaved expertly around seemingly unaware young people. Those unnerving, eerily calm people, dressed as normally as if they were going to exercise: they just continued whatever they were doing. Eating. Drawing. Meditating. All as if the room they were in was not vibrating with screams of sheer terror.

"Hold her down!" Adelle heard Topher yell from behind the frosted glass, his voice struggling to be heard about the hysterical cries. "C'mon, I can't do everything!"

Adelle sighed, walking briskly over to the smaller room. A woman no older than twenty was kicking wildly to free herself from the hold of the guards, shrieking as more hands grabbed her and forced her down into the only piece of furniture in the room: A reclining chair.

"Lemme go, lemme go!" she cried, her voice cracking as she gave another forceful kick, yanking her arms from the man's hold.

Adelle spotted Topher standing by uselessly, yelling orders at the men. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he rocked back onto his heels, leaning as far away from the frantic woman as he could.

"She's stronger than she looks, fellas. Just push her head back! C'mon, I don't have all day!"

In a group effort, the guards pushed her head down, holding it as Topher typed frantically on his computer behind them.

"Steady…" he said carefully as the woman kicked again, but she was pinned. There was no more escape.

The headrest of the chair lit up, almost blindingly bright, and she stopped her fighting, her eyes wide as her body shook in painful tremors. Hesitantly, the guards released their grip on her, expecting her to jump up. She did not, and Topher gave them an annoyed wave to get out.

"Get!" he hissed. "Too many stimuli."

They gave him glares before exiting. He took the quiet moment to readjust his sweater vest, flattening his blonde hair as best he could as the chair shut off and the woman sat up. She looked at Topher for long seconds.

"Hello, Echo," he said.

Her concerned look did not change.

"Did I fall asleep?"

"For a little while," he explained evenly; when he talked to the Dolls, it was the calmest DeWitt ever saw him.

"Shall I go now?" the woman asked quietly.

"If you like."

She hesitated, her eyes trained on him. He gave her a small smile, and it seemed encouragement enough. She got up and walked out of the room, past DeWitt as if she wasn't even there. The second the door closed behind her, Topher let out an annoyed groan.

"She keeps _glitching_, Dewitt! There is something wrong with her that is _not_ in her file!" he exclaimed, his tone accusing.

"Well there's nothing I can do about it, Topher," Adelle replied calmly. He was no threat to her. "_You're_ supposed to be the best at this. Be able to wipe _anything_ from their minds."

"I _am_ the best!" he protested. "But this is the third time this _week_ she's gone postal! I don't think my body can handle the stress!"

She gave a dark laugh.

"The stress of standing? Oh, you poor dear. You've got the hard life. Playing with million dollar equipment, all the time in the world to do any research you desire. You get to build people. _Minds_. You get to make yourself any playmate you want any day of the week—"

She stopped talking when he started walking away and into his adjoining office. Her eyes moved from his retreating form to the smallest movement in the corner of the room. His intern, Ivy, stood quietly, her dark eyes trained respectfully down at the ground, her hands clasped in front of her. She was petite and had short black hair to match, her bangs threatening to cover her eye.

Adelle walked past her, and immediately felt the girl falling into step with her as she followed Topher, finally tuning in to his usual ramblings.

"You know I don't like Dolls," he laughed. "I want something real."

"What is real?" DeWitt asked bluntly, ignoring her impulse to correct Topher's slang. They were Actives. Not Dolls. "We create real companions for clients who ask. It's real to them."

"Can't argue with that," Topher said, though his tone was not sincere. "Ivy! Soda."

His intern moved immediately from her place behind Adelle, her lab coat fluttering behind her as she ran to the fridge, tossing the can across the room.

"Was that all?" DeWitt asked, her patience thinning.

"Well if you're not gonna do anything about, then yeah."

"Please try and hold down the fort while I'm gone," she warned. "I have an important client upstairs."

"Newbie?" he asked, interested.

"New in the area. But she was one of our most…affluent clients in Paris. The director has requested I treat her with the utmost respect, and I intend to do so. In other words. Do. Not. Interrupt."

The blonde man rolled his eyes and gave a conceding nod.

"Relax. I can handle a bunch of mindless shells for an hour or two."

Adelle didn't grace him with a response, turning and walking back to her private elevator. She stepped into her office, although it could hardly be considered an office. More like an apartment. Couches…TVs…_Whiskey_. Most of the time she preferred to stay here.

A woman was seated on the edge of her couch, her ankles crossed and her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her eyes were focused to the side, probably inspecting the alcohol Adelle had forgotten to put away. _Damn_.

Her face was flawless, round cheeks, small chin…Her hazel eyes stood out as much more gold, reflected against the contrasting purple dress she sported. Her hair waved out in sensuous volume, tumbling over her shoulders and down her back.

"Ah, Dr. Isles. It's so wonderful to be meeting you at last."

The woman looked up at the voice, and a dazzling smile spread across her face, her eyes bright. It shocked DeWitt, knocked her slightly off-kilter, even. Normally clients with high social standing and good looks lacked social etiquette. Or at least didn't _like_ it. But assuming had been wrong. This woman's secret was clearly deeper down.

"Ms. DeWitt. I'd have to say the same," the honey-blonde laughed as she stood. "Mr. Ambrose spoke very highly of you."

DeWitt nearly passed out. This woman was in touch with the company's Executive Vice Chairman?

"I, uhh," she faltered. "Please. Call me 'Adelle'."

"Then you may call me 'Maura'," the woman said easily, extending her hand.

Adelle took it and offered a smile.

"Don't be silly, Dr. Isles. I have too much respect for you."

"And I, you, Adelle, but I don't see why we can't be informal. You know me on quite an intimate level already, I'm sure."

This woman. This woman was every man's dream. Beautiful. Educated. Polite. Straightforward. Why was she here? DeWitt cursed herself. She was never curious about clients. They all had something that made them tick. It wasn't…wasn't supposed to be fascinating. Drink. Drink, where was her drink?

"Well, yes, Maura. I can attest to the fact that your file was sent over. We are working on a list of Actives that fit your needs now."

She felt bad turning her back on the woman to pour herself a brandy, but felt better when she turned back around to find Maura sitting again.

"That was actually something I needed to discuss with you," Maura said warily.

Immediately, Adelle caught the sheepishness in her tone, but did not press right away. One thing she'd learned from working here was how to read a person and when to broach topics.

"Really?" she asked, moving to sit on the couch opposite Maura.

"Yes. I…I was hoping that I could maybe…change it up."

The seemingly well put together woman was stumbling over her words.

"Was there something wrong with the Actives you were given in Paris?" Adelle asked, almost gleeful. Maybe she could do better than her biggest rival.

"No!" Maura was quick to protest. "Not at all. They were wonderful. They just weren't…"

"What you wanted."

"…Yes," the honey-blonde agreed after a moment. "But it wasn't their fault. I don't…I don't think I gave them the correct parameters," she admitted.

"Well you can trust me, Maura. There is no judging at the Dollhouse."

"E-everything was…quite pleasing," Maura again assured, her hands now clenched a little tighter in her lap. "But I never did specify…gender."

Oh. That was it. Adelle felt slightly…disappointed. She expected something much deeper from the woman.

"You could've just told them!" she laughed, hiding her negative emotions as she pulled up Maura's file, the hologram floating above the coffee table between them.

"I know. I just…I had gotten to know their coordinator so well…I just…It felt…strange, to tell him that."

Adelle nodded as she rearranged the hologram, also sneaking glances at Maura's other general parameters. Chivalrous. Brave. Kind. Smart. Independent. Considerate.

It looked like a jumbled mess of conflicting ideas, and yet when she looked to Maura expectantly, waiting to change anything else, the woman simply shook her head.

"That's all."

Adelle refrained from shrugging. She would discover more about the woman when she called in for more specialized parameters for her first appointment.

"And I don't need to remind you of anything else? Privacy policy?"

Maura smirked at her. Adelle was so the right woman for this job.

"I don't tell anyone about you, and you don't disclose any damaging information about me."

Adelle smiled at her. Smart woman.

"Then we'll send you a list in a couple of days." She stood. Maura stood.

"I look forward to doing business with you."

"Likewise."

She walked Maura to the elevator.

"And Maura?" she said as she hit the call button.

"Yes?"

"Welcome to Boston."

* * *

**A/N: If y'all are looking for some weird shit, this story is probably it. It will be totally normal and yet totally strange and a little fucked up all at once. There will be fluffy goodness and some bad angst and sexy sexy times and hopefully it'll end in some really believable love. So if you're willing to stick around for the weird trip, I'd love to have the company.**

**And you can yell at me all you want for taking so much time with my other stories. I deserve it. But I'm working. Trust me. This is just something I've had in the archives and decided to finally post.**


	2. Where We Are

**Chapter 2**

**Trigger warning just to be safe.**

* * *

_Cold, callused fingers traced up her thighs, and she jerked against him. It was no use, though. Every movement of her hands sent pain jolting through her, her legs pinned under his weight. She felt her eyes burning with tears, but as she rolled her head to the side, she caught sight of the panicked woman she had come there to save._

_She wouldn't let go. Not yet._

_His skin felt like death as his hand ripped at her shirt._

_"Did you think I was just gonna kill you, Janie?" he asked as she whimpered, her eyes squeezing tightly shut as rough, lifeless fingers crept further along her ribcage._

_"C'mon, Janie, look at me."_

_His tone was playfully whiny. Because he knew she'd comply, even though it wasn't an order. After long seconds, Jane felt the scalpel at her neck, dragging up and down, threatening to go sideways, and she forced her eyes open, staring into his icy ones._

_"That's better. I want you to _see_ me break you," he said, almost a whisper._

_Her neck burned, and she felt blood. Another pathetic whimper ripped up into her throat, the realization starting to hit her. Not only was she going to die down here, she was going to die slowly. Painfully._

_His hand continued back down its original path, over the seam of her slacks—_

Jane jolted up, screaming, her body drenched in a cold sweat. She felt like crying, and probably would have, if she wasn't so tired. It was the same dream every night. Reliving it. Her thumbs kneaded the scars on her palms, forcing blood into them. The pain did not subside though—it usually didn't.

With weary legs, she walked herself to the shower, but barely moved. She just stood, her forehead pressed to the cool tile. She let the water run over her, hoping it would quiet her screaming muscles. It only served to wash the layer of sweat from her. With a sinking dread, she got out, dried herself off, and went back into her bedroom.

Jane could admit that the worst part of her days was falling asleep at night, but she could also agree that this was the second worst: getting dressed. At this point, she could classify her hands as _usable_, but in no way were they close to being _functional_, especially in the morning when everything was still stiff and unused.

Not being able to get dressed was usually her excuse for not going out at all, but today she had to. She had to go into work and tell Korsak of her planned extended leave of absence.

She wanted everyone to remember her for who she was. For the strong and independent person she used to be. She couldn't do that if she came in with slacks and a t-shirt, which is what she had been doing.

With slow movements, she dragged her grey dress pants up her legs. Pausing, she carefully put her finger through the button hole and forced it to curl, breath rushing from her at the searing pain in her palm. In a rough movement, she yanked the button through, her other hand instantly massaging her throbbing palm, trying to quell the white-hot jolts now winding up her arm.

Deep breaths. She needed to fill her lungs, hold the air in, and slowly let it out, but she couldn't. All she could manage was short gasps, trying to both clench and unclench her hand at the same time. But it stayed frozen in the same position, burning with the cramp that would not loosen.

"Relax, damnit," she growled to herself, squeezing her eyes shut as she pressed her thumb _hard_ into her palm.

A more intense jolt shot through her nerves, but then it decreased until she could finally move her fingers again. She pulled her tank top on without a problem and then stared long and hard at the two shirts laid out on her bed. T-shirt or button down. Easy or hard. Safe or painful. Defeated or standing strong.

Carefully, she reached for the button-down, getting her arms through it and adjusting it to sit on her shoulders right. As if speed would make a difference, she slowly pulled the front panels of the shirt together, fighting to make her fingers close around the button second from the bottom.

She let out a whimper as the pain returned, burning as she forced it through. The second one was harder, but the last one was by far the worst. The pain was making her fingers tremble, and the more she tried to still them, the more painful it became. If felt like fire spilling from her palm, licking its way up her arms as she willed her fingers to work.

When the final button finally gave way, slipping through the hole and securing her shirt, she was on the verge of tears. Her hands were cramping and every nerve ending in her arms was on fire, compensating for the fact that all her pain couldn't stay concentrated in one area. On top of it all, she was humiliated. Even in the solitude of her room, she was utterly mortified that someone took away something so simple.

She had done it, though. There she was, standing in the clothes she used to wear, ready to show her coworkers her accomplishment. That reminder was enough to silence the dying wails of her dignity, hidden away in the dark recesses of her mind. She didn't know how much longer she could last, but the end was in sight. Adelle and the Dollhouse would be her saving grace. Or at least she hoped, but she had nothing to lose.

She drove to BPD, pulled into her usual spot in front of the building, but did not get out. She suddenly felt silly for thinking anyone would notice her clothes. It didn't matter now, though. She got out and headed up the stairs, her hand lingering on the door handle. She hesitated, her heart skipping a beat in fear.

Yanking the door open, she stepped through the threshold. It was as if the world, momentarily went silent. Everyone stopped what they were doing, their eyes locked on her. She didn't look at them. She didn't do it for the attention; she just wanted to be remembered. She just wanted to mean something to everyone. She wanted them to know she was okay.

Even if she wasn't.

She pressed the elevator button, keeping her eyes trained ahead. A low murmuring had restarted behind her, but she still felt stares burning into the back of her head. She wanted to knead her palms to ease her tension, but that would just draw attention to the injuries. Instead, she curled and uncurled her toes in her boots until the elevator arrived.

She kept her eyes to the ground when she entered the elevator and turned around, pressing the Homicide Division floor number. She hadn't been up there since…well, since Hoyt. She hadn't been able to force herself. Now, she wasn't even sure she could do it. She considered pulling the emergency stop. But she clasped her hands together tightly, stifling the urge to do just that.

The ding of the elevator sounded, and as the doors opened, she was met with the eyes of her coworkers through the glass wall. Her legs felt like the bones had dissolved as she took her first step, but she willed them to keep going. She walked through the doors and headed straight for Korsak's desk.

He was hunched over his desk, probably trying to read the small print. He had on one of his classic, out of style suits: probably had on a horrible colored tie to match. His hair was a little grayer than Jane remembered, cut shorter as well.

His back to her, she felt confident enough for at least one joke.

"Hey, old man. You lose your hearing while I was gone?"

That did it. He whipped around, and their eyes locked for the first time in what seemed like forever. She saw him quickly glance down to take in her appearance before he was looking in her eyes again, and she caught something she did not expect to see in his light, trusting, lovable eyes. Pride.

"Jane…" was all he managed to say.

Jane couldn't keep herself from collapsing forward into a hug. Her arms tightened around his neck, anchoring herself to him. She didn't want to let go. She felt so safe in the arms of the man who saved her.

But that was being dependent, and she couldn't handle that.

Slowly, she pulled away, taking a deep breath to compose herself.

"Are…you back?" he asked, almost as if he didn't want to know the answer.

She shook her head sadly.

"I just…I wanted to see you before I…left."

"What? Where are you going?"

"I need to just…get away, Korsak. I'm taking an…extended leave…" She trailed off.

"Is it Cavanaugh? Is he making you—"

"No," Jane cut in lightly. "I'm…I'm sure if I asked, he'd let me back on…but I…need some time, Korsak. _More_ time."

"Jane, why are ya tellin' me this? _Now_? You've been gone—"

"61 days. And my…my hands, Korsak…" She fumbled for her words, grasping at the ones that felt the least pathetic. "They just, they won't…They haven't recovered." Pausing, she collected herself. She didn't like how her voice had gotten higher. "I was supposed to come back today if…if I was able. But I'm not."

"Are you…ever coming back?" he asked quietly.

She hesitated, but only for a moment.

"Yeah. Yeah, I love this," she laughed darkly. "I hate that I love it, but I do. And I'll be back, but it's not gonna be now, and I don't think it's gonna be soon."

"So…"

"So, I'm saying now…" Jane pulled a card from her pocket, hastily handing it to him. "I'm not planning on being reachable. I need to go away, you understand?"

He nodded, dropping her gaze to inspect the card.

"_But_, and this is very important, if there is _ever_ a case where Cavanaugh needs _everybody_ on deck, you call that. That is the only time you call that number, because if you _do_, and there is _not_ an emergency, you won't ever be able to reach me when you _do_ need me. Okay?"

"Yeah, yeah…okay. But—"

"Don't show anyone that card. No one."

"You're really freaking me out. Why not—"

"Because I only trust you," she said curtly.

Shock flashed in his eyes, only for a second, and then he gave her the smallest smile.

"I've missed you, Janie."

She tried not to smile.

"If I agree with you, will you promise not to be smug?"

"Promise."

"Then I missed you too."

They fell into silence, but when Korsak saw flight in Jane's eyes, he scrambled to find something that would keep her there longer, if only for a minute.

"There's a new M.E."

"You mean they had the balls to kick Pike out?"

Korsak laughed, his eyes shining along with the smile on his face.

"I'm not really sure," he admitted. "Could just be temporary. You wanna meet her?"

Jane shrugged.

"Nah. I've had enough of the Ice King for a lifetime. Meeting the Queen of the Dead would just take the cake. Not in a good way."

"Oh, come on, Janie. You should at least give her a chance."

She laughed.

"_You_ should give her a chance. _I _don't have to work with her."

He gave her a scowl. She rolled her eyes right back.

"It was great seeing you, Korsak, really."

"You too."

She turned and took a step toward the elevator.

"And Jane?

Craning her neck back, she took in his appearance one last time.

"I'll see you around," he said simply.

She realized in that moment just how much she was going to miss him. Her mind went into overdrive, fighting to remember every single detail of his face, body, stance, and demeanor. But she feared she couldn't memorize it all in the few seconds she had.

She swallowed and tried to give him a believable smile before looking back toward the elevators.

All she needed now was to go back to bed.

* * *

The inside of Maura's new office was smaller than she was used to, but it would work. The large windows let in more light, almost as if she were above ground, but without the need to socialize. She went through the painful process of getting acquainted with the small staff and then went to work, reading through the still-pending cases.

Korsak stuck his head in and with a small knock, stepped a foot cautiously into the room. He was met with the sight of a petite woman engrossed in her reading. She didn't raise her head at the sound of his knock. Her eyes were squinted in concentration, a few shorter strands of her honey-blonde hair falling from behind her ear to cover her eye.

"Dr. Isles?" he asked tentatively.

She looked up to look at him, slightly shocked. No one ever visited her back in Paris. Not unless there was a dead body and a full room separating them. The man looked very much like she would picture a father with a child in college. His face showed both a subtle strength and an overarching kindness. Both were enough for her to overlook his terrible fashion sense and slightly larger build.

His eyes were probing, as if expecting, and she remembered he had just asked her a question of her identity.

"Yes," she confirmed, standing.

"Vince Korsak, Homicide division," he introduced, quick to shake her hand.

"It's nice to meet you, Detective Korsak."

"Just Korsak is fine. Or Vince."

"Detective Korsak," Maura continued as if he hadn't spoken, "Are you my liaison to upstairs?"

"What?" he asked, taken aback. "Everyone's allowed down here—"

"Are you the one stuck with the job of doing it every time, though?" she asked patiently, noting how his face flushed a light shade of pink.

"No. I, umm…no," he said, defeated. "Jane's usually the one who comes down."

Maura caught two different emotions, one after the other, in his clear eyes. The first was deep affection. She knew detective partners often bonded on a very deep level; so based on the situation, that was her primary hypothesis as to Jane's identity. But his second emotion, unmistakable sadness, was not something she could analyze. So much could have happened. She could've been transferred, fired, killed…

She wasn't entirely sure why he hadn't explained that to her yet.

"But…?" Maura prompted, her eyebrows rising expectantly.

"But she's on leave for…another month or two. And I'm not really sure she's coming back at all, to be honest."

"So it _might_ be you I'll be seeing a lot," she concluded.

He looked at her, surprised. She hadn't asked about Jane.

"Y-yes," he stammered.

She saw his confusion and panic settled in over her. _Correct yourself, correct it now. Be polite. Kind._

"Lovely. Thank you for introducing yourself. It'll be nice to have at least one familiar face."

He tried to smile at her, but she could see his disappointment. Her tone had come across as cold, and she knew he had caught it. And she understood that his disappointment was for that reason. He had hoped she would be different in some way from her colleagues.

She mentally kicked herself; it had been her goal to try and be socially friendly. Socially acceptable. That had flown right out the window. Maybe…maybe she could redeem herself.

When she looked up, though, he was gone. She sighed. All she could do was wonder what her uncreative nickname at this place would be.

* * *

Adelle made her way up the stairs and to Topher's office, grimacing when she heard shouting. Sometimes she really couldn't see the difference between this and parenting.

She flung the door open, only to be completely ignored by her employees.

"What part of _'she has a broken arm, give her a twenty-four hour rest period' _bounced off that thick skull of yours?!" Claire barked, clenching her fists by her sides.

"Is that what you wrote in those _novels_ you call 'field recommendations'?! I don't have days at my expense to sit down and read your _every last word_," he shouted back. "You think you're _so_ high and mighty with that stupid MD of yours. I'm a genius and I don't have a PhD!"

"You probably didn't get it because you pissed off your dissertation committee with your lame, self-proclaimed entitlement and your better than thou, rich, sheltered, _little boy_ routine!"

"Hey!" he yelled. "At _least_ I can go out in _public_! I'm not holed up down here twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, breathing the stale, artificial air like it's the same! I've got a _life_. I've got more than just a stethoscope and a lab coat—"

"OH DON'T YOU START, TOPHER BRINK. YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH—"

"Can either of you be civil for one _bloody _second?!" Adelle hollered over them.

They fell silent, looking down sheepishly at the floor.

"Now listen to me," Adelle continued sternly, her hands automatically falling to her hips. "Tomorrow Jane is coming. She's going to be shown everything, as everyone else is, and she is going to get her initial mind wipe."

She pointed her finger at Topher, sweeping it over to Claire and back, her glare boring into them.

"You two will be on your best behavior. That means no fighting. No pranks. No _nothing_. If that is too difficult, then _avoid_ each other. Avoid each other like the _plague_ if it keeps Jane at ease. Do. You. Understand?"

"Yes. Of course, Ms. DeWitt," Claire mumbled, her cheeks flushing slightly.

"Topher?" she asked him expectantly, her eyebrows rising in anticipation.

"Yeah. I get it," he muttered. "Mommy's got a meeting."

He smirked at her, and she let out a defeated sigh, rolling her eyes.

"I don't appreciate your sarcasm, Mr. Brink."

"Yeah, yeah. And I don't appreciate Scarface over here messing with how I do things."

Claire kept her face emotionless as she stared ahead, at something over Adelle's shoulder.

"May I go?" she asked evenly, her hands gripping the clipboard in her hand just a little tighter.

"Yes," Adelle allowed with a nod. "Make sure everything's ready."

"Of course," Claire said again, rushing past her employer and out of the office without another word.

Topher started to make his exit as well, but Adelle stopped him.

"No, no," she said sternly. "One more thing."

"Yes?" he asked hesitantly, looking back at her.

"Have you gotten the trackers on Jane's family yet?"

"Yeah," he said. "Mother, father, brother. She's got another brother locked up. We're trying to tag him today. And we also got more of her acquaintances in BPD tagged. Y'know, just in case."

"And you're positive the system will work?"

"Yeah. No problems at all with it. Any of 'em gets within five miles of her and we'll know."

"Perfect," Adelle gave a small nod of approval. "As you were."

* * *

"Jane!" Frankie yelled through the door. "C'mon, Jane, open up. I hear you in there!"

"Jane's asleep," the brunette called back from her spot on the couch, rolling over to hide her face in the cushions.

"I'm coming in, Jane," her brother warned.

She ignored him though, feeling protected by the locked door that stood between them. When she heard a key in the lock, though, she groaned.

"MA!" she yelled into the couch. "Mind your own damn business!"

"Watch your tone, young lady," Angela berated through the door. "I'm still your mother."

Jane sighed. She had half a nerve to try and clean up her pigsty of an apartment, but most of her didn't care. As of late, she'd discovered a new, scarily dominant apathetic side to herself. The rest of her time was usually spent screaming in terror as living nightmares plagued her.

She ignored her mother's disgusted groan when the door swung open with a thud.

"Janie, I'm not leaving this place until you pick something up!"

"I told you not to even come in the first place," Jane whined, rolling over.

She rubbed her eyes with her fingers, trying to adjust to the light Angela had just flicked on.

"Do you ever clean?" she asked, miffed.

"Between the panic attacks and losing my lunch?" Jane griped. "No, it's not high on my list."

Her mother looked at her guiltily.

"I'm sorry," she tried. "I just think sitting around isn't going to solve anything."

"I know," Jane said, reminding herself that it was only a few more days until she went to the Dollhouse.

She heard the woman bustling around her house, then all movement stopped. An eerie silence fell over them. Jane looked at Frankie, who was looking back, and they listened attentively for any sound from their mother.

"Janie?" she called softly.

Jane winced. She hadn't wanted to do this, but DeWitt had told her it was best.

"Yeah, Ma?"

"Are…are you going somewhere?"

Footsteps echoed back into the living room and a duffel bag was dropped at Jane's feet.

"Yeah, Ma," Jane said again, as a statement this time.

"Where?"

"_Away_," Jane stressed, staring down at the bag.

There was another long pause.

"How long?"

"I dunno!" Jane snapped, exasperated. "Five…six years."

"But Janie—"

"But _nothing_, Ma! I can't do this! My brain reminds me enough about what happened. Seeing the pity on all your faces just brings it right back to the forefront. Everybody treads so…_carefully _around me. Sometimes I wish they'd just be insensitive again!"

Jane could see her mother faltering, finally understanding how serious she really was about this.

"W-will you write?"

The brunette sighed, her shoulders falling as she stared up at her broken mother.

"I dunno, Ma…The point is to separate myself…" she answered warily. It hurt to deny her mother. "…but I can try," she added half-heartedly, her gaze dropping.

The silence that followed was tense. Even though she couldn't see Angela, she was sure the woman was crying.

"I…well, I hope you at l-least say goodbye before you…" her mother's voice broke off.

Damn.

"I will," Jane mumbled, her hands starting their unconscious wringing once again.

It was as if she could just rub the scars away, and the painful memories that went with them would just dissipate too. But it never happened.

A hand on her shoulder jarred her back to reality, and she gave a yelp, flinching away. Frankie yanked his hand back, as if burned, and their eyes locked. His were drowning in sadness. Helplessness.

"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered, willing herself back over towards him.

But her body would not move. She didn't touch anyone anymore. She didn't _want_ to.

So it was kind of ironic to be going to the Dollhouse, the high-class hooker central, but she wouldn't be herself. And she wouldn't remember, anyway.

Frankie carefully stood up, his arms rooted to his sides.

"It was nice seeing ya, Janie," he said carefully, stepping backwards to the door. "Take care of yourself."

Tears burned her eyes, but she managed to nod her head. She set her jaw firmly, watching as Frankie gently guided Angela toward the door, no matter how many times she looked backwards to catch Jane's gaze. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Jane let her sobs loose, her body shuddering as she collapsed back onto the couch.

* * *

Maura rolled her shoulders as she walked out to the parking garage. She found that she was quite tense from her first day. The role of Chief Medical Examiner was a lot more to handle than she had expected, and there hadn't even been a new body yet.

It wasn't that work was bad, per se. It just wasn't better than being alone; no, that wasn't quite right, either. She didn't know how she was going to get used to people constantly coming in and out of her office. It was rarely a detective, but still. She hadn't had a staff in Paris. Now, she had all these interns bustling around, looking to her for advice.

She saw her car, and was about to turn toward it, when she saw movement a little farther left. Detective Korsak.

_Make it right_, she told herself. _This could be your only chance._

Her heart began to pound a little harder as she got closer to him, but she wasn't backing down. Not yet. When she was within earshot, she cleared her throat.

"Det—um…Korsak?" she asked hesitantly.

He looked up from what he was doing, giving her the smallest smile.

"Dr. Isles."

She caught the strain in his voice; he was fighting to keep it friendly. It just made her feel worse.

"I just wanted to apologize for my manner earlier."

She grimaced. _Just like you're talking to Bass. That's what normal people like. Good people. You're not in your parents' company._

"I mean, I just am really stressed. Everything's so new and…I was anxious. Being…detached has always made me feel better, but I…I can promise you, that won't be me. Not if you would…give me a chance."

The muscles around his eyes relaxed and his smile grew a little wider. Her heart skipped a beat; the smile was genuine.

"It's alright," he said with a small chuckle. "Not everyone's a people person. I get that."

She wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but that would be too obvious. So instead, she gave him a brighter smile.

"The fact that you're trying says more about you then ya know," he continued.

"I hope it's saying good things," she said shyly, her eyes looking down at the ground.

"It is," he laughed.

She gathered the courage to look back up at him. He smiled reassuringly.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I've gotta get home. Dog to feed."

"Of course! I look forward to seeing you around," she blurted out, instantly cursing her over-enthusiasm.

"Same goes to you."

He started to walk around to the driver's side when he stopped.

"Oh! And a group of us get together Friday nights. Place called the Dirty Robber. You should come."

Worry must've flashed in her eyes, because he laughed, quick to assure.

"It's alright. You would barely have to do any talking. Believe me. Someof 'em never shut up. It'd…it'd be good for you. Show ya how _not_ intimidating they really are."

She pondered it for a moment, then slowly nodded her head.

"I'd love to," she agreed.

"Great! I'll see ya soon, Dr. Isles."

"See you…" she said unsurely as he got in his car.

This whole job was going to be a lot more work that she thought.

Turning back around, she headed for her own car, feeling herself relax as soon as she got in.

She had just gone out of her way to talk to someone…

It was exhausting.

More importantly, it left her unsatisfied, pent up. Agitated. Apparently she'd need the Dollhouse earlier than she had thought. But not yet. No. Right then, she just needed to go home, unwind with an unreasonably large glass of wine, and sleep for the medically recommended eight hours.

She took a moment to just sit in her car, not touching the ignition. Was this really something she was cut out for? She had to force her brain into overdrive every time someone asked her a question. This was a whole different lifestyle, and it was causing her more stress than she had ever felt in her life. More than medical school. More than in Paris.

Never stopped her before, but still…

With a weary sigh she started her car and headed home, her eyes barely staying open as she made her way into her house. An envelope was sitting on the floor by her front door, and her first spontaneous smile of the day spread on her face.

She picked it up and placed it on the couch, going into the kitchen to pour the much needed wine before heading back. Blanket now spread over her legs curled up on the couch, wine in hand, she set to work, sorting through the Active's faces, and picking the few that she wanted to try out.


	3. Where I Want to Be

**Chapter 3**

Jane shook her hands, trying to rid the fright she felt creeping along her skin as she stood in the elevator. She had new doubts swimming through her mind as she sank further underground.

What in the _hell_ was she doing? Why did she find _solace _in the idea of giving over her mind?! Why did she, the woman who wanted nothing more in the world than to _never_ give up control, want to do this?

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, only to be met eye to eye with Hoyt. It was as if he was burned into the back of her eyelids, tattooed there for the rest of her life, never to leave her alone. Never to give her rest or happiness or a normal life ever again.

_That_ was why.

Because despite the crippling fear she felt right then, descending deep down under the Earth to sell her brain away, she feared Hoyt more. Five years was nothing. A lifetime was not something she could waste.

The elevator door opened, and she had no choice but to step out, forcing a smile as Adelle approached.

"You look nervous," she immediately told the detective.

"Yeah. I've signed my brain over to you. That's something that makes me nervous."

As if it were an answer, Topher handed her a black box, electrical circuits visible under the surface. When her brow furrowed, he elaborated.

"We're not going to do a thing to your memories. All we're doing is…transferring your conscience into that!" he laughed.

She still didn't look sure.

"Come on," Adelle encouraged, waving Jane towards the open room. "Let's have a tour, shall we?"

"No, no…That's really not necessary. I'd rather just…get this over with."

"Nonsense," Adelle assured. "For you, everything's going to be over in a matter of seconds. It's important you know everything that's going to happen."

"What'd you mean 'seconds'?" Jane asked, wary once again. "The point of this was to dull my memories of…Hoyt, 'cause you said it was true that time heals the pain that goes along with traumatic memories."

"And it does."

Adelle softly, but firmly, put her hand on Jane's arm and guided her forward.

"The important part is that _your brain_ will be active for the five years. This gives it a chance to regain its chemical balance. All the flashbacks you're having, it's just because all that fear, pain, and suffering you were caused actually altered your body and its reactions to certain things. You'll still have the memories, of course, but your reaction to them and the way you will react can change. Except instead of having to be conscious for those five years of transition, someone else will be doing it for you."

"And…you're sure that works?"

Adelle gave her the faintest smile.

"Yes. One hundred percent. Now will you let me give you our tour?"

Jane tried to shrug it off, giving a nod, and following Adelle through the giant building.

The woman walked straight through the studio-like room, not even bothering to stop for the steady flow of other people walking around. The others didn't seem to mind though. They just parted to let her through, their eyes staring straight ahead. Jane looked behind her, shocked when no one looked at them. It was as if they weren't even there, and it freaked her out more than she wanted to admit.

There was a single door at the back of the room, and she followed Adelle through it; before her was a long, long corridor, the walls, of course, made of frosted glass and wood beams. Adelle walked quite a ways down the hall before sliding a glass panel away to reveal a room.

Hesitantly, Jane stepped forward, allowing the glass door to be closed behind her. At the center of the room was a giant circle couch. Surrounding it, were six beds, but 'beds' was not the term Jane would have used. They were holes in the ground. Very nicely padded holes, but it didn't change the fact that they looked….exactly like graves, covered by a pane of glass instead of earth.

"Since most of your time here will be spent within the actual Dollhouse, this will be your sleeping quarters."

"I still don't know why you're telling me all of this. I won't remember…right?"

"No. You won't."

Silence fell over them as Jane's eyes swept over the beds. "I have a question."

"Go ahead."

"If I'm not the one in my body, then who is?"

"No one. We call it Tabula Rasa, the 'Blank Slate.' Your body is just a mindless being, functioning solely on the protocols Topher gives. Eating. Exercising. Sleeping. Nothing more, until clients start asking for you."

"At which point…"

Adelle sighed.

"That's the last part of the tour."

"Can't we just skip to that part now?"

"You don't want to see the dining hall or the gym?"

"I've seen it already back in that giant-ass room!"

Giving a small frown, Adelle nodded.

"First let me take you to see the doctor."

"Why?" Jane asked.

"Follow me," Adelle ordered simply.

With a sigh, Jane did, not really wanting to piss off the woman who would be keeping watch over her body for the next five years. They walked back down the corridor and to the mega room; Jane decided to call it the living area. They crossed the living area and came to an alcove just below the floating catwalk, and Jane let herself be ushered inside. Adelle gestured to the exam table, and after a few seconds hesitation, Jane climbed up.

"Is there any reason—"

"I just need preliminary readings, Detective Rizzoli," a new voice explained calmly behind her.

Jane almost smiled at the way the woman had called her 'Detective'. She did not turn around, though. She waited for the doctor to come to her.

"I'm Doctor Saunders. I'll be making sure you're safe and unharmed throughout your stay."

When the woman walked into view, Jane smiled. The first thing she noticed was the woman's stunning eyes. They were a dark brown, even darker than Jane's, almost blending with her pupils. When Jane saw shock in them, she panicked. Had she done something wrong? Was smiling not the way to go?

Pulling back her focus, she understood exactly where the surprise had stemmed from. On the doctor's face were a series of scars: and they looked to be from a scalpel. A long, slightly raised line started from the hairline on the left side of her face and trailed diagonally to her right eyebrow. A shorter scar was slashed across the bridge of her nose, another one close to it on her left cheek, and a final, deeper one ran vertically from the right side of her upper lip down to her chin.

Jane hadn't even noticed because she had scars of her own. She stopped noticing imperfections automatically because she knew just how embarrassing it was to have people stare at them. Because of that, she felt an immediate bond to this woman. This strong woman, who faced every day _unable_ to hide her scars. Unable to ignore the stares of everyone.

"I trust you," Jane blurted out for a reason unknown to her.

Again, the woman looked taken aback, but hid it by starting her physical exam. Her light fingers traced over Jane's cheeks, pressing more firmly on her neck to check her lymph nodes. From there, she felt her way down Jane's arms, her fingers freezing at the sight of the scars.

"W-we're going to have to get rid of these," she said quietly. "For…reasons."

"You…can?" Jane asked weakly, her eyes darting down to her palms.

They could be erased. Was that something she wanted?

"Yes," Dr. Saunders answered instantly.

Jane's brow furrowed as she caught the woman's eye. She saw a hint of sadness, hidden by a wall of cold professionalism.

"But, you—"

"I'm not worth the resources," the doctor explained hurriedly. "_You_ will be an Active. I'm…I'm just the doctor."

She looked away, and Jane saw her avoid Adelle's gaze as she walked to her desk. She quickly wrote something down before hurrying back to Jane. She extended something, and it took Jane a moment to realize what it was. A lollipop.

She frowned at it, and Dr. Saunders immediately looked down at her own hand, as if unaware. She frowned too, then blushed, trying to pull her hand away.

"I'm sorry. Just a habit. T-the Actives. They're like children, a-and…"

Jane silenced her by taking the offered candy.

"Thank you," she said with a smile. "Hope I don't cause you too much trouble while I'm here."

She figured she'd apologize in advance. She wouldn't be in her own mind to do so later.

The doctor gave her a shy smile, delight flashing in her eyes.

"No, t-thank you!" she exclaimed. "Really…You're so very kind—"

"Jane, I think we better be moving on," Adelle cut in abruptly.

Reluctantly, Jane looked over to the older woman, who was standing by the door.

"Fine," Jane muttered, slipping off from the table and walking toward her.

She stopped though, and turned around.

"Dr. Saunders?"

"Yes, Detective?"

"When they….bring me back…could you maybe…put them back?" she asked quietly, her fingers kneading at her palms in indication of what she meant.

The doctor's eyes flitted down to Jane's hands, then back to her eyes, a silent understanding flooding them.

"Yes. Of course. And…if you ever decide, later in life, that you don't want them, please feel free to call. I'd be more than happy to help."

Jane gave a small smile, taking a step out the door.

"I will."

She paused.

"It was nice meeting you, Dr. Saunders."

"Call me Claire."

Jane couldn't help but laugh.

"Alright, Claire. I'll see ya round."

Turning back around, Jane scanned the main area for signs of Adelle. The woman was standing at the base of a staircase, talking to a man Jane did not recognize.

She started toward the woman, when someone else caught her eye. It was the woman from the hospital, Caroline. It _had _to be. And yet she was walking straight toward Jane without any recognition.

"Caroline?" Jane hissed, gently nudging the woman as she neared.

"Hello. I'm Echo."

"What? I…I thought you said someone was gonna kill you?"

"I'm going to eat breakfast. It's pancakes with strawberries."

Jane considered protesting, but the woman had already started walking away.

She looked after her, then back toward Adelle, who was still standing at the bottom of the staircase, staring right at her. Her eyebrows were raised in impatience as she waited for Jane to catch up. Taking in a deep breath, Jane tried to slow her pounding heart as she crossed the room and followed Adelle up the stairs and across the catwalk. What had she gotten herself into?

She watched as the British woman paused, her hand on the doorknob for a moment, before she opened it. Jane wasn't entirely sure she was comfortable with what she saw in the room. Computer screens covered two of the walls, and a reclining chair sat at the center, but it looked too high-tech to be a simple chair.

"When clients request you, we put your Tabula Rasa body into the chair, and Topher…fills it. With another personality."

"So…for a couple of hours, someone else is…in my body?...Using it?"

"…Yes," Adelle affirmed hesitantly. "And then they come back, and we wipe you back to Tabula Rasa, an Active, so we say."

"And these…people who get put inside me….are they….like me? People who needed…help?"

"Oh, no!" Adelle exclaimed. "We'll never put _your_ consciousness or anybody else's into the Actives. We simply have people that have, well, died, _or_, we have personalities Topher created."

Jane pursed her lips, thinking, nodding unconsciously.

"Okay…" she mumbled. "And…when five years is up?"

"We put your untouched consciousness back into your body, and you never have to see us again."

"Nothing in my head'll be changed?"

"No."

A deep sigh left Jane, her eyes locked on the chair.

"And it'll be only seconds?"

"For you, yes. When we put you in that chair, you'll lean back, feel a small sting, and then sit up. That'll be it. Done and over. Five years gone."

Topher entered, arguing quietly, but obviously forcefully, with the same man to whom Adelle had been speaking.

"No! No, you don't _understand_, man friend. It's _embedded _in them!"

"Topher!" Adelle snapped, drawing his attention to herself and Jane.

"Ah! Yes. And this is Juliet. Or…so she'll be known as a Doll," he explained to the other man.

"Doll?" Jane asked.

"Active," Adelle clarified with a scowl.

"Why Juliet?" she asked, curious.

"All the other ones were taken up."

"What other ones?"

"NATO phonetic alphabet. You know…Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot…you get the picture."

"So there's only twenty-six of us?"

"That's all that's allowed!"

"And who is this?" she asked, eyeing the new man.

He read 'Fed' and she wasn't entirely sure she was okay with that. His suit looked expensive, his shirt buttoned all the way up, with a plain colored tie. His hair was short, a muted brown in color, and his shoes were something Jane was _positive_ she wouldn't have ever been able to afford.

"Your handler, Taylor Beale."

"My _what_?" she shot, her eyes narrowing.

"Handler. You're not really going to be aware that you're…being controlled in every aspect of your life. That's the point. Our clients want someone who truly _believes _that they are this person's significant other/friend and so on. They want them to believe they are a real person, and that means…well…they're on their own with the client, at least most of the time. Your handler, this man, Beale, is the guy who will be monitoring you. Making sure the person in your body doesn't wander off with it or will get you out of any dangerous situation, et cetera, et cetera….get it?"

Jane barely understood the man as he rambled, but she got the gist, or at least enough, so that she felt secure in nodding.

"And you don't have to worry about him," Topher indicated Beale. "He looks sorta…meh, but he'll protect you—"

"I can hear you…"

"He used to be a cop in D.C." Topher continued, "And he's just about as new as you, so you'll kinda…not really…be in the same boat. Wonder how he'll handle having to watch over Victor and Oscar too."

"What? Those are guy names."

"Well they _are_ guys, so…"

"No one told me I'd be watching over guys!"

"Comes with the job, man friend. You'll get used to it."

Jane gave the two men a nervous smile, balling her hands into fists.

"Please ignore my rather long-winded programmer," Adelle said gently, shooting Topher a glare over Jane's shoulder.

"Right," Topher rubbed his hands together. "Please ignore the man in the sweater vest who will be the keeper of your brain for the next five years. Now. Are we ready?" he asked, gesturing to the chair.

"Now?!" Jane asked. She hadn't been ready for that.

"Yes, now. Why _not_?" he asked.

"Well...I, uhh…you have my…extra request?" she confirmed, looking to Adelle.

"Yes. We have both set in place," she assured. "A 'Detective Korsak's phone number is in our records, ready to be answered in case of emergency, and the letters you wrote are stacked up and ready to be mailed on your specified dates."

Jane's body relaxed a little, but her thumbs had started their habitual kneading of her palms.

"You…you can still leave, you know," Adelle said quietly. "No one is forcing this."

That gave Jane pause. She had an out. She could go home, right now. Just walk away. Deal with the pain. The fear. The lingering shadow that followed her around everywhere. This…this contract. Five years…just…gone. It made her scared, but at the same time, she also had to keep in mind her incapacitating fear. The one she felt every night when she went to sleep and every morning when she woke up. The fear that stayed with her every hour and every minute. She couldn't take it anymore.

Putting on a brave face, she set her jaw, turned carefully, and sat herself down gingerly on the edge of the chair.

"Is this anything like dying?" she asked quietly as she forced her head to relax back onto the headrest.

"A little," Adelle said.

"Is…is it true?" Jane asked, her body tensing as the chair started reclining backwards. "Do I…really see my whole life?"

Instinctively, she grabbed for the first thing she could feel, and it was Adelle's hand. She panicked at the feel of skin, but she didn't let go. She couldn't. She felt like this was the electric chair, and even though the contact was scaring her just about as much, she needed it. She needed that connection to keep her from jumping up and running out of there screaming. She let her eyes move up to catch the Adelle's, looking for any protest, but the woman didn't seem fazed. She squeezed Jane's hand firmly, moving a step closer and giving a small smile.

"Cause there's…there's always rumors about w-what it—what _dying_ is like…" Jane couldn't push the words out. "I-If this is….similar then….will I?"

"Every single moment," Adelle whispered.

Jane felt a small sting near her temple, and the day's events flashed in her mind in reverse. And then her entire month. Faster. She saw Hoyt all over again, but then she saw everything else. Before Tommy got arrested. Faster. The Academy. High school. Her childhood. Faster.

And then everything was gone.

* * *

Maura didn't know why she ever left the morgue. It was safe down there. It was cool and quiet and, excluding the few lab techs running around, it was solitary.

But after a serial killer in the area had left her exam tables full and her brain running on empty, she needed some sort of boost. Be it from the exercise of actually walking up stairs or from the caffeine that she bought in the form of old, bitter coffee.

She stood in line patiently to pay for the beverage, almost falling asleep right then and there. Standing. But she made it. She half-smiled at the woman behind the counter as she handed her the money, and walked slowly away.

When her phone buzzed, she was not in any shape to answer it, let alone manage the _new_ body the call was surely announcing. Still, she tried to grab it with her full hands, digging frantically for the phone. The cherry on top of it all came when someone knocked into her, and the only conscious thought she had was to get between the person and her coffee.

Surprisingly, she succeeded.

Well. It wasn't much success to be standing in the lobby of her workplace, drenched in burning hot coffee, while everyone else just sort of stared, including the man she had bumped into, his suit clean and dry and he didn't even seem to care. He looked just as put off that she had bumped into him as she felt at herself for coming upstairs in the first place.

She blushed furiously and practically ran for the stairs, but not before hearing someone mutter under their breath.

"_Queen of the Dead strikes again."_

She barely made it back to her office without breaking down, and she sank down to the floor, resting against her desk for support. She fought back her impending tears, looking up at the ceiling, her jaw clenched.

She didn't care.

She didn't care.

The mantra she repeated in her head was almost as false as the smiles everyone gave her.

A few stray tears leaked out, and she wiped them away, inhaling deeply.

_She didn't care_.

Why did nothing she tried end up working? All she was doing was getting _coffee_ and she caught their negative attention. She couldn't walk one hundred feet without upsetting someone, and that in itself was enough to make her never want to leave the safety of the morgue again.

A creaking startled her, and she looked up, only to find her doorway empty. Open.

Sniffling, she stood and rushed over, peering out. The lab techs were hard at work in the opposing room, working on reports and tests she hadn't even requested yet. None of them looked over. Her cheeks burned from her embarrassment, knowing full well that they had already seen her. Still, she felt an overwhelming urge to try and salvage her face before the end of the day.

She snuck past them and to the bathroom, unable to look in the mirror right away. After a few minutes of pacing and fighting with herself, she carefully walked up to the sinks and slowly lifted her gaze up.

The woman who looked back at her was not her.

It couldn't be.

She looked like an absolute wreck. Smudged makeup. Puffy cheeks. Red eyes. Ruined dress.

What was worse, though, something she should have noticed a long time ago, was the look in her eye. Taking in her own appearance, she looked…broken. There was something buried in her eyes, something scared and hurt, and no matter how many expressions she tried, she could not get rid of it. When she smiled or scowled or concentrated or laughed.

Desperate, she tried one final look. She imagined she was speaking to a coworker. To a family friend. She stood a little straighter, shoulders back, and set her jaw. It disappeared. The little broken girl disappeared, only to be replaced by a cold mask. She disliked this look even more. Because even behind the mask, she saw something less desirable than a broken soul. She saw distain.

Everyone saw it.

Every time she looked at someone, she was positive they saw one or the other. The cold, indifferent bitch she had learned to be, or the sad, scared girl she didn't know how to save inside herself.

Maybe everyone was right in not liking her.

Maybe she just had nothing good to offer.

She ran the water cold and soaked some paper towels in it, setting it over her cheeks for a few minutes. The redness and puffiness solved, she quickly redid her makeup, glad her hair was at least still intact from the encounter.

With nothing to fix her dress, she looked one last time at her appearance before heading back to her office.

Hanging on her doorknob, clear and unmistaken in its purpose, was her lab coat. She froze in place, right in the middle of the morgue, just staring at it. She looked over to her employees, and her eyes met Susie's, until the woman quickly looked away and back to her work.

Maura sighed and picked it up, throwing it on and buttoning it up until her dress was fully hidden under the pristine white, hiding but not solving her problem, like she seemed to do with everything else.

Maybe now was a good time to confirm her first Dollhouse engagement.


	4. Where Fantasies Fall Short

**A/N: Don't be mad because Jane's not with Maura yet. I wanted to get y'all acclimated to the world. But next chapter they meet. I swear. And then things go crazy, of course. **

**Chapter 4**

Topher reclined in his office chair, throwing a ball up toward the ceiling. On the screen beside him were Jane's basic monitors. Her heart rate, her brain waves, everything. A phone was wedged between his ear and shoulder as he clumsily caught the ball with his non-dominant hand.

"She having a good time yet?" he laughed into the phone.

"I wouldn't know. Turned off the speakers. It's sick that you have microphones on them, you know that? I don't wanna hear…_that_."

Topher laughed again, leaning to catch the ball and jerking upright when he almost lost his balance.

"Oh come on," he mocked. "You don't like hearing sexy, sexy moaning all day long?"

"No!" Beale protested. "It's bad enough that I have to sit outside this guy's house and wait for her to be done."

"You know it's more than that," Topher corrected. "You have to be there if things go wrong. You're the only one she trusts."

Beale frowned. He remembered her first day, right after her original wipe.

_After Jane gave a strangled whimper, her muscles clenching, everything relaxed. Her eyes opened, her hand dropping Adelle's, but she did not get up. The chair stayed in its reclined position, the light surrounding her head remaining on._

_"What's going on?"_

_"We need to do a Handler/Active imprint," Topher said simply, going to the base of the headrest and pulling out a black box. The one with Jane inside._

_"Which means…?" Beale pressed._

_Topher didn't seem to hear him at first, disappearing into his office and reappearing without the black box in his hand._

_"You have to be here," Topher clarified. "And it…requires a…direct line of sight," he added pointedly, his head tilting slightly toward Jane._

_Beale looked at him uncertainly for a few seconds before carefully taking a step forward so Jane could see him. He jumped a little when she smiled at him; he thought she had been asleep or brainwashed, or…something. But she seemed fully aware._

_"You're tall," she laughed._

_He gave her an unconvincing smile._

_"Aww, c'mon Beale!" Topher exclaimed, jamming a red box into where the black one had been. "Lighten up. Today's the day you become the most important person in her life!"_

_"What?"_

_"This is about _trust, _man friend. From this day forward, she will trust you completely. Without bounds. Without pause. In any and every circumstance. So I would appreciate it if you at least put forth the effort to make it a strong bond. That way, we won't have to do it again. Capisce?"_

_Beale made a face, but did not argue. He forced himself to look directly into her eyes. She had no trouble looking back, her eyes unmoving as they bore into him. He had a difficult time remembering the script he had read earlier with those eyes looking so innocently at him…What were the words? He remembered the word 'treatment,' but that was for something else. Topher had told him it was like a safe word. Something that all the Dolls would recognize as the term for going to the chair, and it would be something they wanted. It would be as normal for them as the word 'therapy' would be to anyone else. But the words he was supposed to be saying _now_ had slipped his mind._

_As if sensing this, Topher extended a page to him, and he took it gratefully, quickly scanning the two very short lines before returning his gaze to Jane's._

_"Everything's going to be alright," he said._

_"Now that you're here," Jane answered, a smile still on her face._

_"Do you trust me?"_

_She paused, and he saw her eyes soften slightly._

_"With my life."_

He shook his head. All this technology was so new to him. That people could be…written, was something he almost feared. Then he remembered Topher on the other line.

"Seriously, though. I can't be much use here," he continued. "Dangerous isn't exactly high on this list of adjectives that describe sex. Shouldn't I only be out in the field for red flag ops? Like _government_ ops and police aiding?"

"Of course not! There's danger everywhere."

"Yeah, but how often—"

"Beale! Beale, her vitals are spiking," Topher cut in, sitting upright once again and leaning toward the monitors.

"I can hear, Topher," Beale responded, rolling his eyes and slumping further down into his uncomfortable chair. "Last time I checked, sex had that effect on people."

He heard the bite in his voice, but his day had been a rough one. He hated being holed up in the van on babysitting duty.

"Man-friend," Topher sighed, disappointed, "do you listen to anything I say?"

"No."

"Those are not heart squigglies," he continued. "These are brain squigglies. Frantic, fight for your life, _baaaad_ squigglies!"

Beale made a face, even though Topher could not see.

"Are you _sure?_ 'Cause I'm not going in there for anything less than life or death."

"Her mind's in fight or flight, Beale. You understand that? Every one of these vitals is telling me she thinks she's dying—"

"Alright.

Beale slipped out of the van, slamming the door behind him as he ran for the house and drawing his gun simultaneously. At the door, he hesitated, unsure whether he wanted his presence unknown or not. Try the door or knock it down; his decision was made for him when he heard Jane's shriek echo up.

He kicked the door in, instantly on alert, keeping entirely silent in order to hone in on exactly where they were. It wasn't particularly hard; both parties were creating quite the ruckus.

"Jesus!" the man breathed. "Could you calm the fuck down?!"

"Just get away!" he heard her yell.

"Would you hold still—"

Then the man gave a yell, just as Beale entered. Jane had one hand cuffed to the headboard, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes flashed dark, a powerful animalistic fear etched in them as she glared at the man in question. He was huddled on the ground, trying to recover from the blow she had just dealt him.

As soon as Beale entered, they both looked up simultaneously, the man wiping blood from his lip.

"Thank God you're here," he exclaimed. "I put the cuff on her and she just…she went _ape shit _on me! She was _supposed _to be mild-tempered—"

Beale ignored him completely, rushing over to Jane, trying to calm her as she gasped for air.

"It's alright, it's alright,—"

"My hands," she whimpered, "my hands hurt. Make it stop, please just hurry and make it stop…"

As if she forgot about the handcuff, she tried to move her hand, her eyes shooting up when it didn't budge. A scream rushed from her, her body squirming and trying to break free from the cuff.

"Get him off. Get him off, please," she whimpered, tears rolling down her face, taking trace amounts of her eyeliner with them. "Don't let him hurt me—"

She gave another loud scream, pulling at the handcuffs roughly. Beale was sure she would cut herself, or hurt herself, or _something_, and he searched his mind desperately for her name. Who was she? Who…?

The name hit him in an instant.

"Sarah. Sarah, c'mon look at me," Beale soothed, guiding her face back to his. "Do you trust me?"

A long pause followed where Jane's wide, frightened eyes just stared back at him. Wide, blood-shot, smudged. Slowly, she stopped squirming, stopped moving, stopped breathing, her eyes locked on his. Unwavering.

"I guess," she finally breathed.

That wasn't what she was supposed to say. What happened to the script? Her response was always supposed to be 'with my life.' With my life. What was he supposed to do? Forcing himself to keep his focus, he realized she was staring at him in anticipation, waiting for instructions. Finally, finally his shock wore off, and he managed to give her a gentle smile.

"Okay, good." He redirected to the man. "Key, now."

He saw the protest in the other man's eyes, smothering it with another firm "now" before any retort could form in the man's mind. Once he got the key, Beale took a moment to rub gentle circles on her wrists.

"You want a treatment?" he asked softly.

The brunette sniffled, nodding, her curls bouncing with the movements.

"Okay. Then go back to the van, okay? I'll be right out."

She gave him a small smile, standing up and picking her dress up from the ground. Throwing it on as she exited, she swiped her heels up from the couch before she went for the front door.

Beale turned his attention to the client, watching as he stood.

"Would you mind coming back to the Dollhouse with us?" he asked politely. "I'm sure our director Ms. DeWitt will sort everything out."

The man looked at him warily for a moment, then nodded his head.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks."

Beale gave him a smile, extending his hand toward the door and signaling for him to walk. The client did, and Beale's smile faded instantly. He touched the transmitter in his ear.

"Topher?"

"Man friend?"

"We got a live one comin'. Get DeWitt ready."

"Okie dokie. Is Juliet okay?"

"Yeah. Definitely shaken. Nothing wrong that I could see."

"Dr. Saunders can verify."

The two paused.

"Seriously? Did Juliet _really_ overpower Sarah Walsh, the calm, cool, collected, inner-city middle school teacher?..._Damn_, I don't even wanna know what happened to that woman."

Beale gave a small laugh.

"Yeah…neither do I. See you in a few?"

"I'll be waiting patiently for my Juliet to come home…Although it becomes very much less romantic when you factor in me erasing her mind."

"_Goodbye_, Topher."

"Right. Bye."

Beale hung up and climbed into the back of the van, banging on the divider wall to the front seat to signal the driver. The van lurched forward. Jane stayed seated in the far corner, her eyes down on the ground, her whole body tense.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"You don't need to apologize," Beale said quickly. "It wasn't your fault—"

"I'm still sorry I ruined our date," she mumbled, lifting her head to look at the client. "That's…that's never happened to me before. I dunno what happened."

"Look, it's all over now, okay?" Beale coaxed, putting a comforting hand on her back.

She didn't speak the rest of the ride, and they sat in a tense silence until the van pulled to a stop. Beale got out and offered her a hand. She took it gratefully, allowing herself to be helped out of the van and guided to the elevator.

"I'll see you when I'm finished, right?" Jane asked Beale hesitantly.

"Right after," he lied easily, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder and pushing gently when the elevator doors opened.

She turned around, giving him a small wave as the doors once again closed and the two men continued higher to Adelle's office.

They hadn't even stepped off the elevator and Adelle's voice was echoing towards them.

"Was I unclear when I asked you to specify everything that would happen during your engagement?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically loud.

Even Beale was scared. He never saw her lose her temper very often.

"N-no," the client said warily, taking a few steps into the office.

"Did you just think I was asking for my own personal pleasure?" her voice was louder still, each word still immaculately articulate. Chillingly so.

"No! I…I just…"

"Were you trying to do our job for us? Thought you could do it better?"

"NO!" he finally yelled.

She had apparently been looking for that reaction, because she was instantly back to normal speaking volume, her words still extremely harsh in tone.

"So then why did it occur to you, in that thick-headed skull of yours, to go and try bondage on a kidnapping victim's body, hmm?"

"Hey!" he protested. "How was I supposed to know that—"

"_Exactly_," Adelle snapped, her eyes shining with a frightening anger. "That is _our_ job to pick out an Active who will best suit your needs. If you don't _tell_ us _everything_, it makes it impossible to do our job _correctly_ and give you what you want."

"I didn't know!"

"It wasn't your job to know! It is your job to trust. To simply be at the receiving end of a business deal. And you nearly fucked it all up!"

Beale's eyes widened, but she still wasn't done.

"The next time you do business here, if you do, I expect you to not leave out one detail. Do you understand?"

He nodded mutely.

"I don't care how embarrassing. I don't care how seemingly insignificant. I want to know everything you are going to do. Where you are going. What you are planning. What you want as an end result. How you want to get there. Everything. As I previously requested and you so blatantly ignored. Are. We. Clear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"It is my job, my _only_ job, to keep my staff and my Actives safe. I pride myself in doing just that. Some might compare me to a protective mother." She advanced on him, and he took a few shaky steps backward. "So, Agent Gabriel Dean, if you, even for a second, do anything to jeopardize that again, you better believe I will not hesitate to drop you on your ass with more than a few compromising photos to match."

She waited for the words to register, a heavy silence falling over the room.

"Now get out of my office," she glowered.

She didn't even need to finish the sentence and he was fleeing, back to the safety of the elevator. Once the doors closed, Beale couldn't conceal his smirk, his eyebrows quirking up as he looked questioningly at Adelle. She shrugged.

"What can I say? I made quite a convincing argument."

She laughed at her own words, moving to the couch and sitting down, grabbing her earlier forgotten glass of whiskey.

"What if he comes back?" Beale asked.

Adelle ran her finger around the rim of the glass, staring off into space for long moments of silence.

"Oh, he won't be back," she finally said. "I'm counting on it."

* * *

Maura bit her lip as she watched her coffee drip into her mug, stretching the morning stiffness away. Her _soreness_. She took the mug with both hands, pressing her palms to the warm ceramic, and she turned to go back to her bedroom.

Stopping in the doorway, she leaned against the frame, taking in the scene before her. In her bed was what she could consider both a stranger and someone she knew everything about. Long waves of red hair splayed out across the pillow and over the edge of the mattress, the woman's face lost somewhere underneath. Sometime during the night, the sheets had slipped off somewhat, leaving the woman fairly exposed, from her neck all the way down to the dimples on her lower back.

This was the part of the engagement Maura liked the least. While she had to admit, their encounter had left her more satisfied than she had been in a while, she still wasn't sure what to do. Yes, the Dollhouse provided her with people who were at ease around her, it failed to solve the other half of the equation: _her_ inability to feel comfortable. During the day, most of her uncertainty came from a fear of being rejected, so she had assumed taking that away would cure her.

But it didn't.

She still felt awkward. It was like back when she was younger and had just started dating. She remembered the first time a lover had told her that he loved her. It was the most horrifying moment of her life because she had realized, she really wouldn't have cared if he never spoke to her again. It had made her worry that there was some…_feeling_ she was missing, and she had been searching for it ever since.

The woman woke with a start, her hand swiping the long, fiery tresses from her eyes. Her bright emerald eyes locked with Maura's, and she grinned, a blush creeping into her cheeks, overpowering her freckles.

"Were you watching me sleep?"

Maura forced a smile.

"Not really," she said honestly. "Just admiring."

The woman's grin broadened and she stood, the sheet slipping from her body as she made her way over to Maura, who looked away courteously. But the woman would not allow it, taking Maura's chin with her fingers and guiding it back.

"Nothing you haven't seen before," she whispered, pressing her lips to Maura's in reassurance.

When she pulled away, Maura offered another weak smile, her one hand leaving her mug to rest on the dip of the woman's waist.

"I know, Kelly."

"You…okay?" Kelly asked, her brow furrowing as she cupped Maura's cheek.

Maura nodded and smiled, though she knew it didn't reach her eyes. The red-head knew too, and guided Maura back to the bed, gently taking the mug from her hands and setting it aside before sitting back next to her. Draping the sheet over her lap, she turned to face Maura fully.

"C'mon. What's up?"

The concern in Kelly's voice was overwhelming. It was like she really cared. No. She _did_ really care, and that just made Maura feel worse.

"It's nothing. Really."

Silence fell between them, but only for a moment. Kelly was immediately filling it with apologies.

"God, I'm so sorry, Maura. It must feel so weird, me coming back and just…this."

She gestured to her naked form, and Maura's barely clothed one.

"I…I know I was gone for a little, and I'm sorry if it just feels like I'm using you, but I'm not—"

The words hit Maura like a ton of bricks; _she_ was the one doing the using. She was so conflicted, mostly because she didn't feel particularly sorry about it, and here this woman was, begging for an apology she didn't even need. It just made her feel bad in general.

She felt tears on her cheeks, and she cursed the wiring of her brain, trying to wipe them away before Kelly could see. The red-head saw, though, pulling her into a tight embrace, rocking her slightly.

"Oh, honey-girl, don't cry. It's okay. I'm back now," she whispered, running her fingers through her hair.

It just made Maura cry harder; the words meant nothing to her.

A ringing phone interrupted them, and Kelly looked hesitantly toward the source of the sound. Maura sniffled, trying to regain her composure.

"It's alright. Go. You're a busy woman."

Hesitantly, Kelly got up, taking a few steps toward the bedroom door.

"You're sure?" she asked, looking back.

Taking a deep breath, Maura conjured up the most believable smile she could.

"Yes. Please."

She saw the conflict in Kelly's eyes, but after a few beats of staring at each other, the red-head spun on her heels and ran to grab the phone in time. Maura let out a sigh, lying back and feeling blindly for her coffee. Underneath it was a few files, and she grabbed those too, studying them until she felt her mind finally catching up with her body. More awake. More focused.

A few thuds drew her attention back to the open doorway, and she saw Kelly stumbling to pull on her shoes, a piece of toast hanging in her mouth as she hurriedly stuffed her old clothes into her purse. Maura couldn't help but chuckle. The woman was undeniably colorful, entertaining even, but it didn't patch the fact that Maura didn't feel much at all for her.

"Hon?" Kelly called.

"What?" Maura asked over the rim of her mug.

"You moved your damn deodorant! Where in the hell'd you hide it?"

The honey-blonde rolled her eyes.

"Behind the mirror!"

"_Which_ mirror? There's like…_twelve_."

"Closest to the door."

A few minutes later and Kelly was rushing back into the bedroom. She kissed Maura chastely, tenderly tucking her hair behind her ear.

"We'll talk more about this when I get home, okay?"

Maura nodded, only under the comfort that there would be no 'when I get home.'

"Love you," she murmured, stealing another chaste kiss before running to back toward the door.

"You too," Maura mumbled, an uncomfortable knot forming in her stomach.

As soon as the front door closed with a slam, Maura pulled out a different file from under the bed. Her pen traced lightly down the page on the left until it landed on 'Kelly McGlen,' and she crossed it off with a single, neat line. Although the woman had been kind, Maura felt the familiar feeling of just not…working. On the right side, she flipped through the packet of faces until the woman's appeared. She circled the name at the bottom of the page: Foxtrot. Her face was beautiful, not something arguable, and anyone would have been crazy to cross her off their list.

She checked the clock on the table and frowned. She only had an hour to get ready; she would be cutting it close to make it to work on time.


	5. Where Stars Align

**Chapter 5**

**A/N: So let me be clear about something. I am going to be using the name '_Jane'_ in all my descriptions, despite the fact that it is NOT Jane, simply because the name is associated with a face. If I say another name, it'll take away from your mind being able to picture what I'm writing. Still. Know that this is not really Jane. Maura does not know Jane's body matches the Jane she hears about from Korsak. The real Jane is locked away in a little electronic box until further notice. Are we clear? I think we're clear.**

**Note Rating Change**

Holed up in the safety of her office, Maura stared at the Dollhouse business card for a long time. Just, stared at it, willing herself not to pick up the phone and call again. For one, she didn't need to squander all of her parents' and her own money all in one go. She wasn't _that_ blinded by lust. Not yet, anyway.

The other reason was simply because she treated it as something more special than something regular. Like going out to eat or taking a weekend trip. It wasn't something she viewed as habitual, but a nice change of pace every once in a while.

She reached out hesitantly for the phone, pulling back and clenching her hand into a fist to fight the urge. But again she put her hand on the handset and lifted it, before angrily slamming it back into place.

_No. You're above this, Maura. You're above impulses. Just _focus_._

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"You, uhh…having a hard time there?"

Maura let out a sound somewhere between a yelp and a cough, jolting at the sound of Korsak's voice. He just chuckled, taking in her flustered appearance and how she seemed to be gripping the edge of her desk for dear life.

"It wasn't cooperating," Maura offered.

"The phone?"

"My hand."

He outright laughed that time, his hands to his stomach.

"Y'know, Dr. Isles, you're real funny. Other people'd know it too if you let 'em."

"I wasn't joking."

"That doesn't make you any less funny," he pointed out.

She kept herself from scowling, settling for a deep sigh and putting her head in her hands.

"What was it that you needed, Vince?"

"We've got some evidence that our vic was using. If you could test his hair to confirm, that'd be great."

"Of course," Maura agreed, looking up from her hands. _Say something nice_. "And…Vince?"

He stopped his retreat to look back at her.

"…Have a good day," she said timidly.

The corners of his lips twitched upward, giving her the smallest smile, followed by an approving nod.

"You do the same, Dr. Isles, he said easily.

She smiled, even though he was already gone, and for a few moments, she finally felt accomplished. But her gaze once again fell onto her phone, and she frowned.

_No_. _Don't. Finish the day. Almost done._

She couldn't force herself to move, though, and as she slowly reached for it once more, it rang. She jumped, but answered it within the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Maura! I didn't expect to catch you."

"What a…lovely surprise, Adelle. I was…I was just thinking about you. How are you?"

"Well enough," she paused. "I'm sorry…Will you excuse me for a moment?"

There was rustling on the other end, and then Adelle's sharp, but muffled voice rang out. "WOULD YOU TWO SHUT UP?" Maura listened as a long beat of silence fell. "_Where is that God awful death metal coming from?...TOPHER!"_

A few thuds echoed through the receiver, and then Maura heard Adelle clear her throat.

"Sorry about that. Just some housekeeping issues."

"What was it that you called for?" Maura asked.

"Right. I was hoping you could come in for a follow-up interview. Yes, I know you've given us your parameters already, but there are some things you might want that your mind does not know how to vocalize."

Maura bit her lip.

"Alright. Does today work? I'm almost finished here. I can make it in a couple of hours."

"That's perfect. Just give me a call when you're on your way."

"I will."

"Bye, Maura."

"Bye."

She hung up the phone and stood, adjusting her skirt as she walked out into the morgue.

What had Korsak wanted?

Hair. Right.

She found the homicide victim Korsak had mentioned and took the requested hair sample before starting her autopsies on the other bodies, all of which were not homicide related.

From there, she gave the lab techs her instructions, leaving Susie in charge. With the long day behind her, she set off for the Dollhouse.

The interview seemed rather basic to her and not very revealing. But for some reason, by the end, Adelle had the smallest of smirks on her face. It made Maura question if she had given away more than she thought.

"Thank you for taking the time to come out," Adelle said as they walked onto the catwalk from her office.

"Really, it wasn't a problem," Maura assured.

The two stopped at the catwalk's edge, both of them leaning against the railing and looking down into the Dollhouse.

"Wonderful. I hope to hear from you soon, Maura. It really is a pleasure working with you."

"Thank you for making such an effort to help…" Maura paused, her attention ripped away by a woman walking on the floor below them. She was in a group, listening attentively, her brown curls whipping back with each of her steps. Her olive skin looked smooth and soft and perfect in the not-too-harsh lighting, her toned muscles visible in the yoga pants and tank top she adorned.

Everything rushed from Maura's mind, and for a moment, all the voices in her head quieted, and the only thing coherent bounced on the edge of her tongue, threatening to burst free: _perfect_.

"Who is that?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even, indifferent. Inside, she was desperate. Desperate to have _that_ woman.

"Juliet. She's new…" Adelle answered warily, eyeing Maura from the corner of her eye. "…Why?"

"Nothing…it's just…she's…fairly attractive."

"Maura, she's new. And you specifically ask for Actives with clean, established wipes. I cannot promise that with her—"

"That's quite alright, Adelle. Is she free? I would love to schedule an engagement for tonight. If that's alright."

"Yes..." the British woman still seemed hesitant. "Anything in specific?"

"Not sure, really," Maura admitted. "I guess I just need a good release this time around…Maybe someone to just…experiment with."

"Maura, I don't think you're listening. That woman isn't stable. One minute she'll be totally imprinted with someone else in her body and then suddenly she's not. She's just someone else, and we're trying to fix it, but—"

"I will handle it, Adelle. Do you not trust me?"

"It's not about trust. It's about providing the safest, most pleasant experience, and I do not believe that a glitching, unstable Active on your hands is the best thing."

"I respectfully disagree. Now can I book her for tonight or are you forbidding it?"

Adelle pursed her lips and furrowed her brow, looking from Maura down to Jane and back.

"If you wait ten minutes, she can leave with you. But her handler Beale will be right outside the whole time, so if you need anything, you call him."

The older woman waved to Beale, and he walked over, hands clasped behind his back. "Yes?"

"You have van duty tonight. Follow Dr. Isles' car."

"Yes ma'am," he said with a nod, both he and Maura watching as Adelle started down the stairs. "She grows on you after a while."

Maura smiled and turned to him.

"I liked her from the start. But perhaps that's because I'm someone who…grows on people."

Beale rolled his eyes.

"I didn't mean it like that, Dr. Isles."

She laughed.

"I know you didn't. And Maura is fine."

"Then call me Taylor."

"Alright, Taylor. We're already on first name basis. How about you give me your number while you're at it."

He smirked and chuckled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a familiar looking Dollhouse card, a new number on it.

"I don't know how I feel about giving a pretty lady such as yourself my number just so you can go and sleep with someone else," he quipped.

Maura smiled.

"Then you should be glad to know it's not really your fault."

He frowned, unsure what she meant until he saw Adelle towing Jane with her. Maura tilted her head and smirked, shrugging.

"Sorry," she offered.

"No you're not," he muttered.

"I kind of am," she protested.

"Just go to your car," he laughed. "We'll be down in a little bit."

She frowned, but obeyed, taking the elevator back up to street level and getting into her car. True to his word, she saw the brunette exit from the glass doors, shadowed closely by Beale. Her chocolate eyes lit up at the sight of Maura's car, and she was running over before Maura could even really process. She was caught in a whirlwind of brown curls and mint chapstick as Jane all but tackled her inside the car, covering her with kisses.

"Oh, you didn't have to pick me up!" she exclaimed between kisses.

"Of course I did," Maura managed, her eyes looking over to her still open passenger door.

Beale waved a card at her, leaning in and slipping it into the glove compartment before knocking lightly on the door.

"Be good, Jenny," he said pointedly, just so Maura would know Jane's name.

Jane looked up, disgruntled from having been interrupted.

"Yeah, yeah, Taylor," she grumbled. "See ya tomorrow."

"Bye," he said with a smirk.

Jane looked back to Maura, smiling down at her.

"Can you take me home now?" she asked huskily, leaning down until their lips were inches away.

Maura forgot how to breathe as Jane's words tickled her lips, and she forced her eyes open, only to be met with beautiful brown eyes, darkened by a simmering lust.

"Only if you get off my lap," she breathed out.

Jane smirked.

"Fine."

But not before she stole one last, languid, rather bold kiss, leaving Maura so dizzy, she wasn't even sure she was in a state to drive. She cleared her throat, and Jane bit her lip.

"Did my phone call earlier work you up?" She asked slyly.

Maura swallowed, her heart rate increasing at the prospect of lying.

"I'm, umm, I'm not quite sure I remember the call," Maura said slowly as she put the car in gear and started off.

She could feel Jane's stare on her, and she glanced over for a second, to find the brunette smirking at her. She had taken Maura's statement as a challenge of sorts, and when Maura looked back to the road, Jane leaned over. Her one hand held up her weight against Maura's upper arm, the other slipping slowly down her thigh.

"You don't huh?"

Her breath was hot on Maura's neck, the honey-blonde having to repress a shudder she felt threatening to run up her spine. She clenched her jaw to try and focus, but the fingers dancing at the hem of her skirt made it even more difficult.

"I _distinctly _remember calling you," Jane murmured.

She nuzzled her nose against Maura's cheek, leaving it there and pressing a long kiss against it.

"I remember calling, and you answering," her low voice making Maura tremble. "I said I was sorry for having to work so much."

Her lips trailed softly along Maura's jaw and back towards her ear. Maura swallowed and shifted, trying to relieve the now prominent aching between her legs. Teeth scraped at the soft spot behind her ear before Jane's lips and tongued soothed it. Maura felt her cheeks get hot. _Focus. Don't crash._

"And I promised you I'd make it up to you, How much I _wanted_ to make it up to you."

Maura's grip on the wheel tightened. She found her whole body humming for Jane to both continue and stop at the same time.

"I've been waiting all day to get home, get you naked, and make you come so hard you forget everything by my name."

A moan slipped from Maura's lips, quickly turning into a whimper as Jane's fingers traced higher.

"J-Jenny," she forced out. "You need to stop if you w-want to make it back alive."

Jane sighed, but backed off, reaching over and settling instead to lace their fingers together, letting them hang over the center consol. It felt like such a normal thing, and yet, Maura had never held someone's hand. But right then, it felt right and as if she'd done it all her life, She actually considered taking the long way home just to hold it longer, but she'd be lying if she wanted to hold Jane's hand I lieu of seeing her naked.

And she couldn't lie.

They pulled up to her house, and jane bounded out.

"I'll be right there," Maura called after her, although Jane didn't seem to mind.

She reached for the glove compartment, searching for the card Beale had left her. She pulled it out and scanned the information.

_Jenny Barnes. 33. Relationship with Maura Isles for two years. Lives with two roommates. Mother lives in state. One brother, one sister out of state. Occupation: House Inspector. Very…very adventurous._

Maura blushed at the thought of finding that out for herself.

"MAURA," Jane whined from the front doorway. "Are you coming or what?!"

"Yes! Yes of course!" she called out the open car door.

She shoved the card into her purse and grabbed her keys, getting out of the car and hurrying up the walkway. Jane wrapped her arms around her as she reached the door. Any dexterity she would've had flew out the window. The little kisses at the back of her neck made her knees weak, and she couldn't focus for the life of her. Jane chuckled smugly in her ear, and she had to collapse some of her weight back into the brunette.

"Something wrong?" Jane murmured, biting a little more firmly behind Maura's ear.

"N-no," Maura managed, closing her eyes and leaning further into Jane.

"No?"

Jane trailed her hand up Maura's side slowly, running down her arm until she gently took the keys herself. One arm still wrapped securely around Maura's waist, Jane put the key in the lock and turned it, guiding Maura inside.

Jane turned Maura around as soon as the door was closed, pulling her closer and kissing her roughly. Wandering hands soon were pulling off clothes instead of exploring, both of them clumsily walking toward Maura's room without ever actually breaking apart. Maura's arousal rushed and pounded at her core with every firm touch. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she half-realized she was being just as rough in return.

Jane loudly slammed open her bedroom door, while Maura focused solely on removing every scrap of clothing from the brunette. Her trembling fingers finally managed to undo Jane's bra, and Maura pulled away enough to take a good look at the very…_very_ nice body.

Her view was obstructed once again as Jane pulled her closer. Maura couldn't place a coherent thought as Jane's hands wandered possessively over her now barely covered hips and ass. How was she supposed to take control?

Before she could come up with an answer, Jane pushed her back onto her bed, straddling her waist and attacking her neck with her lips more heatedly than before. Maura's breaths came shorter and her heart pounded fiercely in her chest. It was as if all she could focus on was jane's lips and the dull heat of Jane's core she felt pressing against her abdomen.

There was nothing else.

Just their skin and heat.

She found it in herself to roll them over; Jane gave a growl. Maura smirked down at her. Jane smirked back, and their lips reconnected with possessing tongues and low moans. Jane's hands grabbed firmly at Maura's ass, and the honey-blonde gave a short noise of disapproval, finding Jane's hands with her own. She laced their fingers together and lifted them over Jane's head, allowing for her to continue her exploration down Jane's neck.

When she couldn't get any lower without releasing Jane's hands, she pulled away enough to look into dark, dark eyes.

"Keep them there."

It's lower and more firm than she could've ever imagined speaking.

And it made Jane's eyes go darker still. She bit her lip and squirmed slightly under Maura, nodding slightly. Slowly, Maura released Jane's hands, and she instantly found herself on her back again, Jane grinning mischievously above her, but in a whirl of surprising passion, she rolled them back over and caught Jane's above her head with only one hand.

Without even thinking, she reached for the discarded scarf on her nightstand, but when her mind caught up, she hesitated, only to look down and see Jane looking at her with excitement.

"You sure?" She asked, suddenly unsure, her other hand releasing Jane's to grip the scarf tightly.

"Yes," was Jane's immediate breathy reply.

"You have to tell me if you're ever not okay? Understand?"

Jane gave a small nod, sealing the deal with a kiss.

"I love you, baby," she whispered into Maura's lips, her hands sliding up the column of her throat, threading into her hair to pull her closer.

Maura's heart fluttered at the words, even if they weren't true. Because to the woman below her, they felt one hundred percent true, and that was more than enough for her. This amazingly beautiful woman.

"I love you too. Do you trust me?"

Maura felt Jane's lips freeze against hers, and the brunette pulled back enough to look deep into Maura's eyes with those lovely, beautiful, mind-numbing chocolate eyes.

"With my life," she breathed.

Maura swore her heart almost went out of sync. Slowly, she let her fingers drag down Jane's arms, mapping out every inch of tanned, silky skin until there was no more to map. She gently wrapped her fingers around Jane's wrist, giving a gentle squeeze before replacing her fingers with a silk scarf. Her attention was not focused on what her fingers were doing, but Jane's face, clocking every reaction.

The brunette watched in rapt attention as Maura guided the scarf encased wrist up and through the metal headboard. Once Jane could no longer see her hands, her eyes immediately snapped to Maura's, encouragement pooling within the dark arousal.

Maura felt something warm flood through her, reaching out to heat every part of her body, seeping down her extremities until she was full of a scary, needy, pounding. It was like her heart was everywhere, and every part of her was magnetized to the brunette. She leaned down to give Jane a fervent kiss, sucking on her bottom lip until Jane's hips give a subtle roll against her.

She chuckled, finally securing Jane's other wrist to the first, sitting up and allowing Jane to test out the restraints. The brunette did, tugging, her eyes flying up to try and see above her. Maura watched her breathing start to increase, saw a panic seeping into her dark, dark eyes, and she understood Adelle's hesitation. This wasn't the same woman she had met earlier. It couldn't be…could it?

Instantly, she rolled off the brunette, her hands running slowly up and down Jane's bare side, comforts spilling from her softer than she'd ever heard herself.

"Baby, baby it's okay. Tell me if you want to stop. You don't have to worry about disappointing me. I love you. No matter what."

Jane laid there for what seemed like forever, her eyes closed, her breathing still slightly elevated. Slowly, though, ever so slowly, Maura felt her relaxing under her gentle caresses. She never stopped stroking Jane's side, trailing her fingers up and down and around the plane of Jane's stomach; anything that felt instinctually right. And her first instinct was to calm the woman down. The second was to understand exactly what was in her mind. What happened to her? But for now, she stuck with running her hands as softly as she could on every part of Jane's body she could reach.

Jane let out a shuddering breath, and her squirming body finally fell to a standstill. Her eyes fluttered open, gazing intensely up at Maura, the smallest of smiles pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"It's okay, Maur. I'm okay."

"You sure?" Maura asked tentatively. "It was just an idea…really. We don't have to—"

"C'mon, baby. You get me all worked up and then threaten to not do anything about it? That's worse than tying me up," she teased lightly.

She turned her head to catch Maura's gaze as the honey-blonde stayed lying beside her, biting her lip. Jane sighed, giving her a serious look.

"I'm okay, really. I dunno what happened, but I'm okay now."

"Okay," Maura whispered.

She ran her hand gently up Jane's side, afraid that anything harder would break her.

"I'm fine," Jane insisted.

She sounded sure, but Maura held back.

"You tell me," Maura murmured, stealing another kiss. "You tell me if you want out."

Her lips stayed locked with Jane's though, and she felt like she could never pull away, lost in the way Jane kissed her so _fervishlyy_ back. It was desperate and quick and burning. Maura's heart took off, pounding hard and fast within her. She kneaded Jane's breasts, pinching and tweaking her nipples until Jane cried out, her body arching up and into the touch. Smiling against her lips, Maura granted the increased skin contact for a fleeting moment before pulling away.

Jane's whimper of disappointment was almost enough for her to give in, but stronger was the intoxicating power, knowing the woman beneath her _craved_ her touch, possibly just as much as Maura craved _her _touch. But that could wait.

Her hands wandered lower, Jane's dominance trying to pull through as she fought for more contact. When that did not succeed, she settled for dominating their kiss, biting playfully at Maura's bottom lip. Maura just smiled and traced teasing patterns below her navel, loving how Jane never failed to respond, rolling her hips or giving a whining moan. Goosebumps trailed in the wake of her teasing touches, waves of them crashing lower and lower until they were hidden under the cotton of Jane's underwear.

Jane's hips jerked as Maura's fingers lightly traced the crest of her hipbone. She bit her lip to muffle her desperate moan, squeezing her eyes tightly shut to will her body still. Maura's fingers ghosted, barely there, down her thighs and up, hooking her thumbs under the elastic and tugging down gently.

* * *

"IVY!" Topher yelled, swiveling lazily in his chair, "Where is the lovely Ms. Kagrise? Her five years are up and I've got a nice inkling to get outta here for the night."

"Right," Ivy muttered, looking up from the circuit board she was fixing.

She stood and walked to the shelves housing the volunteers, standing on her toes just to reach the handles. When she pulled it open, rats spilled out, falling onto the table and floor behind her. She flinched away, but the high-pitched scream came from Topher.

He threw himself backwards, scrambling up onto the desk, and jumping onto an even higher railing separating the split-level room.

"Get them!" he ordered. "IVYYY!"

"I'm going, I'm going," she muttered, dropping to her knees and trying to catch them.

"Get…get!"

"C'mere!" Ivy called sweetly to the animals, trying her best to keep them all in the box she'd haphazardly grabbed.

Claire walked cautiously into the room, surveying the scene, from Topher's frantic yelling to Ivy to the mice and back.

"Dr. Saunders!" he exclaimed. "Help Ivy!"

Claire frowned, looking down at the white rats scurrying about her feet. She bent down and scooped one up, smiling sweetly at it.

"You don't like my rats, Topher?" she asked innocently, her eyes flitting up to meet his gaze.

"Wh-Y-_Your_?" he squeaked out, cowering back as she stepped closer.

She smirked at him, extending the creature up and closer to him. He leaned back, yelping as he almost lost his balance.

"You know I hate rats!" He shouted.

She looked at him pensively for a moment, bringing the rat closer to her chest once again.

"You're right," she said.

"God, woman!" He hissed. "You gotta stop messing with me! I don't know if I can live like this!"

His words put a sparkle in her eyes. One of genuine amusement and superiority.

"For some reason I just can't seem to help myself," she said evenly.

"C'mon, Saunders. Do you _really_ get any joy from my pain?"

"Quite a lot, yes," the airiness of her tone slipped, cold and utter seriousness taking its place, if only for a moment.

It stunned him into silence, and she smiled at him again.

"Besides. If you were a little more of a man, you could handle these cute little guys."

She turned to go, allowing her insult to settle around him, cutting through his previously crippling fear.

"Yeah, well…" he faltered. "Maybe if you got rid of some of those scars, you wouldn't remind me of Frankenstein's bride!" he shouted after her.

She whipped her head back, her hair swirling about her head, but there was no anger in her eyes. Just passionate mischief.

"I like my scars," she quipped, mock sweetness in her voice. "They bring out my eyes."

She bit her lip to contain a giggle at the distraught face Topher gave her, and then continued her previous path out the door and down the stairs.

* * *

Maura woke with a start, rolling over to get more warmth from her partner, only to find the other woman not there. Strange. She got up and walked to the window, peeking through the curtains onto the street. Beale's van was still parked outside, waiting to escort Jane home in the morning.

So she hadn't left, had she?

She pulled on her silk robe, crossing her arms to fight out the chills as she started a slow walk down the hall. The bathrooms were empty, as were all the bedrooms upstairs. She frowned to herself, but went for the stairs anyway, padding down each one lightly and without sound. New house meant no creaky floors, something she both loved and hated.

There was no sign of the brunette in the kitchen, nor the dining room, and she was just about to give up as she trudged back towards the foyer. She stopped and closed her eyes, letting the deafening quiet of the large house crash over her. Envelop her. She stood stock-still, taking a final intake of breath, before holding it, ceasing all the minute little sounds her body made.

Just as she was about to exhale, she heard it. The slightest rustle. The smallest sigh. Cutting through the overwhelming silence. Her eyes snapped open and she looked towards the still empty living room. There was no one in there, that much she was sure of, but what she had forgotten was the half-room just beyond it.

She stepped forward carefully, as if any sound would frighten the woman. Each movement was quick and soundless. She suddenly felt desperate to find this woman, to actually _see_ her. She slowed at the other side of the room, resting her hand on the intricate door frame for balance as she slowly turned the corner.

Jane was sitting on her piano bench, hands folded in her lap. Just sitting. Her eyes were scanning the keys, left and right and left and right. She made no move to play. She just sat, a small crease in her brow from either concentration or worry or confusion. Maura couldn't tell.

She looked up, catching Maura's gaze, an almost eerie sort of calm over her. Maura smiled at her, but Jane only returned it half-heartedly, her eyes dropping back to the keys.

"Are you alright?" Maura asked cautiously, taking a few steps closer.

"I…I don't know," Jane said honestly.

"Do you like it? The piano?"

"It's nice," she said with a nod.

Maura carefully placed herself down on the bench beside Jane, their shoulders close enough to brush.

"Then why the worried look?" she asked softly, reaching out and tucking some of Jane's hair behind her ear.

Jane looked over at her slowly, a confusion swimming in her chocolate eyes.

"I never learned how to play."

"So?" Maura asked. "That doesn't mean you can appreciate its beauty."

Jane looked sadly at her for a moment longer before focusing back on the piano.

"But…" she started. The rest of the sentence never came.

She lifted her hands delicately to the keys, and without so much more than a small sigh, she started playing, soft and eerie, filling the looming silence of Maura's large rooms and vaulted ceilings with a new sadness. Her fingers were shaky, unpracticed at the motions, as if the muscles in her hands were working for the first time, and even though she missed notes, the runs and chords showed a clear knowledge. A background in music. A _love_ of music.

She stopped abruptly, her hands coming together as if to hold the other back from continuing. They sat in silence, the final notes still ringing in their ears. Maura didn't know what to say. How to say it. Beside her, Jane shifted her weight back and forth, ringing her hands and staring at the piano in a sort of trance.

"Why can I do that?" Jane whispered. "I don't…I've never…Why do I _want_ to? I'm like…my hands….they're _craving _it. W-what's…what's going on with my head or…my body…or whatever it is…."

Maura reached out hesitantly, putting one hand atop Jane's clasped ones, the instant skin to skin contact stopping Jane's fidgeting.

"We'll figure it out, alright? But right now you're tired, Jen. And sleep is the body's most important need. A person can go longer without food than they can without sleep, and without proper amounts, people stop thinking clearly and—"

"What did you call me?"

Maura paused worriedly before she answered, afraid she had slipped up.

"Jen…?" she frowned, "Is that wrong?"

Jane frowned down at the keys, then looked hesitantly into Maura's eyes.

"No…" she said slowly. "That's right."

"Will you come back to bed?"

Maura lifted her hand from Jane's and offered it palm up.

Jane looked down at it, chewing on her lip as she thought. She then gently grabbed Maura's hand, enough permission for Maura to stand and lead her back upstairs and under the covers. As soon as she herself got in, Jane was instantly curling up to her, pulling her body towards her own until any space between them was imaginary.


	6. Where Heroes Hide

**Chapter 6**

The moment she arrived at work, Maura knew something was off. Over the past few months, she'd grown accustomed to almost everything. The level of noise. The number of stares, or lack thereof. And today felt so painfully different. The chatter was a little bit brighter, smiles seemed a little more prominent. She wasn't quite sure what to make of it all.

So instead, she ignored it altogether.

She made her way through the lobby and to the elevators, getting down to the basement in record time. In her office, on her desk, was the more extensive toxicology report she had requested, along with some identities of different trace evidence she had gathered.

When her requested x-rays were not present, she frowned. Although it would have required a little more work, by going to the patient's doctor to request them, it was not an unreasonable request.

Trying to keep her annoyance in check, she made her way to the lab, where her interns were. The few that were there were grouped together, lounging around and laughing. As soon as they noticed her, their smiles were gone, their postures straighter.

"Dr. Isles," Susie addressed her.

"What is going on?" she asked curtly, her displeasure evident.

"I…uhh…What?"

"Where are the x-rays I asked for?" Maura asked.

She could feel her blood-pressure rising.

"Oh! I forgot about those," another one said. "Sorry! We've all just been so…caught up in the letters."

"The what?" Maura asked.

She tried to force the scowl from her face, but she couldn't seem to.

"The letters. Detective Korsak and Officer Rizzoli got letters from Detective Rizzoli. Everyone's real excited to hear from her—"

"And how are Detective Rizzoli's letters pertinent to you and your poor work?"

"Because!" he protested. "None of them'll be getting any work done today! Why should we?"

"Because!" she shot back in a similar tone. "As the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, I have to determine the cause of death for any violent, sudden, unexplained, unexpected, and medically unattended deaths that happen in the city of Boston. I should not need to _babysit_ you in duties that you can perform as a full-grown adult!"

The other interns looked like they were trying not to laugh as he turned a shade of pink.

"It is not your concern what they do upstairs. Your job is to collect evidence and help me determine _that_ man's cause of death! If you'd rather worry about Detective Rizzoli and her personal life, then I suggest you look for another job."

"I-I'm sorry, Dr. Isles," he stammered, not looking at her. "I'll go and get them right now."

"Thank you," she said coldly.

Turning her back to them, she exited, files in hand to deposit on Detective Korsak's desk.

When she got upstairs, Korsak's desk was uninhabited. Actually, it appeared that the whole homicide division was empty. She walked cautiously forward, slowly putting the file on the desk.

Just as she was about to head back for the elevator, she heard laughter coming from the BRIC room. Unable to help herself, she took a few steps closer, looking through the glass.

Officers and Detectives and everyone in between were piled into the room. Sitting on chairs and desks and file cabinets and the floor. Detective Korsak was standing in front of them all, a piece of paper in his hand. She could just make out his words, muted through the glass pane.

"_You should see 'em, Korsak, these girls in Ireland are damn hot. Seriously. If I didn't know any better, I'd date 'em. But what can I say? Those red-heads? Crazier than the rest."_

More laughter erupted from the crowd, men and women alike. They were all hanging on every word, each one leaning forward in anticipation.

"_In all seriousness though, old man, I miss ya. I miss everybody. I don't know how long I'll be, but know I'm alright. I'm healing. Hopefully it'll be a faster process than I thought. Either way, keep Crowe in check while I'm gone. Watch out for my little brother. And lay off the damn cheeseburgers already. Can't have you going into cardiac arrest while I'm so far away. Be safe, and best wishes, Jane."_

Maura moved away from the window, walking back towards the elevators. She could hear applause echoing toward her and she hurried to press the 'door close' button before the detectives started spilling back into the main room.

She made her way, grudgingly, to the café, dropping into a seat furthest from everyone else in the room.

She knew how unladylike it was to slouch, but she didn't care. Her day had been bad enough as it was. So, in plain view of the entire establishment, she crossed her arms on the café table and dropped her head to the makeshift pillow.

Stupid letters. Stupid Jane.

Because of her, there was a little bit more ignoring and a lot less work being done, and it just made her feel that much more out of place.

To top it all off, she realized with a kind of wonderful horror that she _missed_ her last Active. Actually missed her.

It was a new, wearying feeling. She had to fight to keep her mind on track, every little thing bringing her mind back to that beautiful face. Those beautiful words. Sounds and sights and feelings rushed from her memories, more powerful than she'd ever experienced, and all her body did was relive that day.

She had been looking forward to work because it was always her best distraction, but having coworkers that did almost nothing proved too difficult to do anything _but_ think about that beautiful brunette.

"Mind if I join you?"

Maura rolled her head enough to peek out from her arms, only half-expecting the voice to be directed at her. When she saw an older woman looking back, she jolted up. Back straight. Head up.

"Yes of course."

The woman sat, smiling warmly at Maura, a plate in her hand. Maura took a moment to examine her further. Her hair was brown and blonde and red all at once, the shades mixing together and blending from years of dyeing experiments. She had both laughing and worry lines, telling Maura she probably had more than a few children, grown up and gone by now. Her eyes were just about as colorful as her hair, hazel at first glance, but upon closer inspection, a ring of blue could be seen around the very edge of her irises.

Maura felt an artificial cold on her arm, and she looked down, only to be met with two cartoon eyes on a bunny pancake.

"You looked like you needed a pick-me-up," the woman offered as explanation.

Maura looked back up at her, unsure what to say. She'd never really been approached in a café before. Or offered food without being asked.

"And some company."

She laughed, and Maura felt herself relaxing with the beautiful sound. She smiled half-heartedly. Still. She couldn't quite seem to form a sentence. She looked back down at the pancake, feeling appreciation bubbling up in her chest at the sentiment.

The woman must have taken her silence for uncertainty.

"Don't worry. It's whole wheat. You looked like someone who'd want that—"

Without even meaning to, Maura burst into tears, covering her face with her hands to try and hide from the sweet woman.

"Oh, honey," Maura heard and then arms encircled her, hugging her tightly.

"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered out, her breaths hiccupping out as she cried.

"No, no, it's okay. I'm right here."

And she was. She was there, holding her, rocking her, rubbing her back until her sobs quieted. Only then did the woman pull away, gripping Maura's upper arms and looking into her eyes.

Maura sniffled, trying to downcast her eyes, but the middle-aged woman's hands slid up and over her shoulders to her neck until her thumbs could brush over her cheeks. It made her look back up, and she peered shyly at the other woman.

Her thumbs brushed at the wetness gathered on Maura's cheeks, her smile assuring Maura, and, seemingly satisfied, she let her hands fall back into her own personal space.

"I'm Angela," she said, as if nothing was wrong.

"I-I'm…Maura."

Angela gently pushed a fork and knife toward Maura's hand before leaning back in her chair.

"You're new," she said.

Maura nodded, before starting to eat, careful to take small bites in case she would have to speak.

"Do you know my son?"

"I don't know," Maura said honestly. "I'm not that great with names. Or faces. Or…" Social interaction. She decided not to finish her thought.

"He's just starting out. New officer. His name's Frankie."

Maura shook her head.

"I'm not really in contact with officers," she admitted.

"That's alright. That's mostly why I'm working here, y'know. Ever since his sister left, I wanted someone around to look after him. But I was the only one left."

She shrugged.

"But if you see him, make sure to embarrass him and tell him his mother misses him."

Maura smiled.

"Of course. What would the name be? On his uniform?"

"Rizzoli."

"You mean like Jane?"

The words spilled out before she could stop them. _What were you thinking? You don't know all the facts yet. What if she's seriously _permanently _injured?_

But Angela smiled. It was a sad smile, but a smile none the less.

"Yes. Like Jane. Do you know her?"

"I'm afraid not…It's just with all the letters today…"

Angela smiled a more genuine smile, reaching for her purse and pulling out a familiar envelope, one identical to the one Korsak had been holding.

"She would've liked that about you. It'd make her feel like not everyone knows her for—well, for…"

Maura knew not to press. She just kept eating, her eyes focused down on the movements of her silverware.

"For the Surgeon case," Angela settled on.

Maura's chewing faltered.

"The serial killer?"

Angela nodded mutely, and Maura saw that was the last question she should ask about it.

"Well I'm sorry I never got to meet her. Judging by your symmetrical features and strong jaw line, I'm sure she's very beautiful."

"Oh she is!" the older woman gushed. Maura was glad she had chosen the correct distraction. "But she doesn't look like me. Not that much, at least. She looks like her father."

She reached for her purse again, and Maura was almost certain it was to retrieve wallet photos. Angela seemed like that kind of mother.

"RIZZOLI," Stanley called from behind the counter. "Break's up!"

Angela stopped searching through her bag to look up and frown. She looked back over to Maura and smiled, standing up.

"It was nice meeting you, Maura," she said. "Come up more often."

Maura stood too, feeling bold enough to catch the woman's wrist as she turned.

"Thank you," she said quietly, her gaze averting before she forced herself to look directly at Angela.

Angela took her hand, squeezing it lightly.

"Anytime."

Maura stood alone for a few moments before she finally found her legs, and she made her way back to her office.

A few hours of trying to do work by herself, and she was just about done.

She dismissed the interns with a wave of her hand, telling them to go home. They didn't argue.

She lay on her couch, pillow over her head, basking in the silence for a long time, unsure what had her so weighed down. That was a lie. She knew. It was her solitude. Her loneliness was catching up with her, and she had absolutely no idea how to fend it off. All her life she had compartmentalized, kept the pain of her childhood sealed away, but now something just felt missing. Like there was a negative space where the compartment of 'love' should've been.

But she could, with certainty, say that as of yet, nothing fit there. She didn't know if anything _could_ fit.

The thought struck her so hard, she was dialing the Dollhouse number before she could even fully process the extent of her depression.

"Hello?"

"Adelle? Yes. I'd like to make an appointment for tomorrow."

"Of course, Maura. Any particular Active?"

"Juliet," Maura said surely. "Juliet would be absolutely lovely."

* * *

**A/N: Oh shit. What's next? As always, reviews are welcome, especially with this weird ass world. I'll be more than willing to answer any questions as well.**


	7. Where Fears Can Live and Die

**Chapter 7**

Maura got home later than she had anticipated, so she opted to simply make a salad instead of cook. She carefully washed the dishes and headed for the bathroom, preparing herself for the sight she had been _feeling_ all day. She peeled off her turtleneck, inspecting herself in the mirror. Her fingers gingerly felt the fading red marks on her neck.

Good thing her next Active engagement was simply a meeting of minds. She was _not_ attractive covered in hives.

But what had she lied about? That had been something else that had plagued her all day. She was usually so careful with what she said to the Actives. What had she slipped up on?

She played through their night, skipping (mostly) over the not so talkative and much more active parts, her mind freezing.

She had told her she loved her.

What?

Why?

Had she?

She couldn't have.

But as if in response, her neck started to burn once again.

She had.

She grimaced and put her head in her hands. A hot shower would at least soothe them slightly, and tomorrow they would be mostly gone. She just had to be sure to not do it again. No more lying.

Quickly, she stripped the rest of the way, hopping in the shower and letting the water calm her muscles and skin, along with her still whirring mind. She got out only when the water was verging on icy, hopping out and throwing on her pajamas. Checking her phone as she walked to bed, she read the text message from the Dollhouse.

_Dr. Johanna Messing. Age 33. Has been helping Maura through her social anxieties for just over a year. Rossum building, tenth floor, room 1042. Appointment at 7:30 a.m._

Maura smiled, closing the message and setting her alarm. She threw the phone on her nightstand and crawled under the covers. Early morning. Hopefully there weren't going to be any bodies showing up in the middle of the night.

* * *

"You've been awfully quiet today," Jane observed, relaxing further into her chair and placing her pen on top of her note sheet.

She was right.

In the forty minutes they'd already spent on the session, Maura hadn't had much to say at all. She was so distracted by the brunette's beauty, she wasn't even sure she remembered her problems. Jane's curly hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, a few curls threatening to escape. Her face, usually bare, was now framed by the _sexiest_ glasses Maura had ever seen, and it was taking most of her brainpower just to keep herself from drooling. Why had she thought this would be a good idea?

"I, umm…I'm sorry," Maura mumbled, deflating into the couch. "I…I've had a rough week."

"Tell me about it."

"My…coworkers. They're…they're quite intimidating on their own, but then add the pressure of social conventions and I just…I…I crumble."

She covered her face with her hand, letting out a defeated sigh.

"And I just wish I knew how to…how to _join _them or at least not…care if they…if they _don't_ want me around."

Silence followed her admittance, and she couldn't bear it. She removed her hand from her face to find Jane looking pensively at her. Then, a decision in her eyes, the psychiatrist slowly set her notebook and pen down. She stood and walked across the room to the couch, and sat down next to Maura. The brunette took Maura's hand between her own, her gaze inspecting their fingers. Maura held her breath as she waited, the simple touch both scorching her and calming her down.

"For some reason, Maura, you have convinced yourself that no one will like you for yourself. Your goal is to mold yourself to fit them. Now, it is not something that can happen overnight. Do not think that. But you need to understand something."

She took a deep breath and looked Maura right in her hazel eyes.

"You are a good person. In all of our sessions, you have never failed to make me laugh. You are personable when you forget about being polite. You are someone people would love, as long as you stopped hiding. That being said, both you and I know gaining faith in yourself is a process that will take time. But it is important that you know, because that could be all you need to _start_ to trust yourself with social situations."

Maura didn't know what to say. She felt like crying because she wasn't sure anyone could _ever_ feel that way about her. But she also half-believed it. Maybe she could be loved after all. Or at least appreciated or even…liked.

Jane smiled warmly at her, squeezing her hand.

"You haven't had the same exposure as other people. You had money and status and that limited the people you interacted with. You were an only child," she gave a short laugh, "Let me tell you, I learned just about all I know about social interaction from my brothers. Like this one time. Frankie and I got so competitive in a one on one game of basketball, he broke my nose with his elbow—"

Maura's gasp cut her off.

"Did you get it fixed? Professionally? By a doctor or did you go to a hospital?"

Jane's smile flickered and died.

"Did I say nose?"

Maura frowned, and then nodded.

"I meant glasses."

The honey-blonde smiled and nodded her understanding, but Jane's furrowed brow lingered. Which only made Maura confused once again. She slipped with her words occasionally. Why did she seem so conflicted about it?

But then Jane's eyes snapped up and she cleared her throat, a smile back.

"_Anyway_," she laughed easily. "My _point_ was that I learned to get over those kinds of things quickly. And I learned everybody has faults. And everyone is judgmental. You can't escape it, so why let it bother you?"

Maura gave a half-convinced smile, when in reality she just felt like crying. Why _did_ she let it bother her?

"I believe in you," Jane said firmly, squeezing Maura's hand. "I really hope you can too."

Maura swallowed, pulling back her tears simultaneously. She nodded minutely, and Jane gave her a cute little side smile.

She released Maura's hand and checked her watch.

"Oh…I'm afraid we're all out of time for today," Jane said, looking back to Maura with worried eyes. "I hope today helped you even a little."

Maura nodded again, standing as Jane did. She extended her hand and Jane took it firmly.

"Thank you."

Jane's eyes smiled, though her face stayed professional.

"Of course. I'll see you next time?"

"Yes," Maura confirmed. "Soon."

She left, passing Beale in the hallway and giving him a small nod.

"Have a good rest of the day, Dr. Isles," he said politely.

"You too, Taylor. I'll see you next month."

"Stay out of trouble!" he called as she rounded the corner.

She smiled, her heart fluttering just a little with excitement. She just realized something. She had just had a _normal_ exchange with a _normal_ person. No hiccups. No nothing. She, Maura Isles, had been smooth _and_ casual.

Her grin widened.

Neat.

Beale stuck his head into the office room.

"Yo, Johanna, you ready for your treatment?" he asked.

She looked up from Maura's file.

"Yes, of course," she said with a smile.

She put the file away before following him out the door.

"Thank you for coming to get me," she said as they entered the elevator.

The office they had used was in the Rossum skyscraper that was directly above the Dollhouse. Convenience and all. The elevator doors opened to the high catwalk overlooking the main Dollhouse floor, and Jane stepped out, walking straight for the room with the frosted glass windows.

She opened the door to find Topher and Ivy playing a game on one of the computers.

"Stop! Stop it!" Topher shouted, jerking the controller as if it would make a difference.

"Oh, you're so going down," Ivy laughed, leaning slightly closer to the screen.

"No!" Topher yelled. "Remember I'm your boss!"

"Sorry to break up the party," Beale laughed, "But I've got some actual work for you."

Both scientists jumped and dropped the controllers. Ivy cleared her throat.

"I…umm…I'm gonna go…be productive."

She scurried away before anyone could say anything else.

"Great." Topher swiveled in his chair, clasping his hands together. "Sit, pretty lady, so you can be on your way."

"Thank you so much," Jane said as she sat herself down.

Topher scooted himself over to her without getting up. He gently removed the glasses from her face, turning back to type a few commands into his computer. The light turned on.

"Really, Topher? Glasses?" Beale was finally able to ask.

Topher shrugged. "She was nearsighted!"

Jane sat up slowly.

"Hello, Juliet," Topher said.

"Did I fall asleep?" she asked, turning to look at Topher.

"For a little while."

"Shall I go now?"

"If you like."

She got up without another word, heading right for the door. As soon as she was gone, Beale started talking again.

"You just couldn't help yourself, huh? Sexy psychiatrist with glasses."

"I don't think you _heard _me, man friend. She was _nearsighted_!"

"What?"

"Do you think I just throw people together out of random bits and pieces? No. I have to shape an entire _lifetime_ of memories. Why is she a psychiatrist? What made her want to help other people sort out their fears? Maybe it's because she got made fun of for her glasses at a very young age!"

Beale didn't speak right away.

"You mean…you craft…lives?"

"Yes! I'm not making whores, even if that's what they're used for most of the time. I'm making people. People who all got to where they are from the experiences they had to have. They need memories of family, school, and traumas; every single thing that would shape a human being. They're not one dimensional. They're as…close to being a person as I could get."

"Where is Jane?" an annoyed voice snapped from behind him.

"I suggest you leave before you feel the wrath of the doctor," Topher sighed. "Really, I'd love to stay and chat, but I have a bitch to deal with."

Beale nodded and exited through the same door Jane had used, the opposing door swinging open to reveal Dr. Saunders.

"What can I do you for, Doc?"

"I put her on watch list, Topher. That means go easy on her."

"Relax. It was low profile! No extraneous activities, no all-night sexpeditions. Just a girl and her therapist."

"I don't care what it was! You deliberately ignored my recommendation—"

"Why do you _always_ think I'm doing things _just_ to spite you?! Dr. Isles requests Juliet. DeWitt requests I keep Dr. Isles happy as a clam. Therefore. Juliet and Dr. Isles get some alone time! Nowhere in that little equation is you or me."

"Jane is still adjusting. Her body can't handle the large amount of stress that housing another consciousness brings this often"

"She's not Jane, Dr. Saunders."

"Yes, well, you're the expert, seeing as you're the one who stole Jane."

"I didn't _steal _Jane! She's right there!" he yelled, pointing at the wall of black boxes. "And if you've got a problem with the morality of this place, then you _really_ shouldn't be working here!"

She paused, everything about her still exuding calm.

"Strange…isn't it? I hate everything about it, and yet…it's everything I want," she mused.

A flash of panic flickered onto his face, the color slowly draining from his cheeks.

"It's like the Dollhouse was _made_ for me," she continued, a smug smirk slipping onto her face. "Oh…wait. No. That's not right, is it? Feels kinda…backwards."

His mouth opened and closed, and as she glided closer to him, he backed clumsily away.

"It all makes…so much sense now. I'm scared of crowds…people…sunlight…open spaces…noise. Is there one other? I feel like I'm missing one…"

"Pets," he mumbled sheepishly, stumbling over a discarded football and giving her the opportunity to catch up to him.

She grabbed the collar of his shirt, crushing their lips together. He made a noise of protest, finding the strength to push her back.

"Are you drunk?!" he protested, putting his hands up defensively as she continued to try and mold their bodies together.

"No. Just giving you what you want," she murmured, her hands moving to where his hands were not protecting, below his belt.

"Okaaay!" he exclaimed nervously, pushing her away once more. "Can someone explain to me what's going on? Please? IVY!" he called out.

"Oh don't worry, she won't disturb us. I sent her out for some more lab rats…It's just you and me and all the time in the world—"

"Dr. Saunders, you need to stop."

"It's alright Topher. I think we've moved past the point of last names," she said sweetly, taking more steps toward him.

He continued to back away, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

"What in the _hell_ are you doing?!"

She didn't answer right away, simply pushing his shoulder and sending him collapsing onto his couch.

"Just moving right to the end game, love," she whispered, straddling him before he could move. "And I've finally realized it." She cupped his face, giving him a quick kiss. "I've finally realized after…all these years. I love you. God, I love you."

Finally, Topher regained his control and slapped her hard, sending her falling back onto the ground.

"YOU NEED A FRICKIN TREATMENT!" he shouted.

His eyes went wide at what he just disclosed. Her desperate love pleas were gone, replaced with a triumphant smirk. She picked herself up from the ground, smoothing out the skirt of her dress.

"You really should get better control over your sex slaves, Topher," she teased.

"You're not a sex slave!" he protested agitatedly, throwing his hands up. "And for the thousandth time, since nobody ever seems to hear me, I don't want sex slaves! I want something real. Slaves are just slaves—"

"_Exactly_," Claire laughed, her seductive face on once again. "And what's more real than winning over the one person that is guaranteed to hate everything about you," her voice was low as she crept back towards him.

Her fingers nimbly undid the buttons of her lab coat until it hung open, revealing a barely there black lace bra and thong, the curves of her body striking against the shapeless coat hanging from her shoulders.

He was less persistent on pushing her away this time as she climbed into his lap, looking rather confused up at her.

"So I love you, Topher Brink. I love everything about you."

She went to kiss him, succeeding in taking his lips in her own, but only for a second. He found his limbs again, shoving her onto the couch beside him.

"Just stop!" he shouted.

They glared at each other for a long beat before she turned away.

"Why shouldn't I love you?" she spat, standing up to tower over him. "Aren't you _loveable_?" her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Aren't you Big Brother? Aren't you the Lord, my God?! Why should I fight your divine plan—"

"Because you're better than that!" he yelled, startling her. "Because you're better than me," he said, more softly this time.

He stood up too, pacing. He couldn't believe what he was going to tell her.

"Dr. Saunders was dead…and Whiskey," he gestured hesitantly to her to indicate her Active name, "was out of service because of the…scarring and, well…yeah. So…DeWitt gave me the call. 'We need a new doctor,' she said. 'one who will look after our actives. Be kind. Level-headed. Someone loyal to the Dollhouse.'"

He paused, taking his chances and looking her in the eye.

"All…employees are required to have themselves copied, and so I…I just…him and you and…" at a loss for words, he simply entwined the fingers of both his hands together in a quick motion. "And…here we are now. We needed a level-headed, loyal, kind doctor. We have one."

"Why didn't you stop there?!" her question was desperate, angry. "I remember being alone all my life! I remember meeting you and hating everything you stood for and I remember _vowing _to fight you until the day I died! Why would you _do _that to me?! Why—"

"Because I was making a _person_, not a Roomba!" he shouted. "If you agreed with everything I said, we would _miss_ something and people would get _hurt_."

"You don't care if people get hurt—"

"You don't know me!"

The outburst made her fall into silence "That's the deal with this God-forsaken place!" he continued, "You don't know me, and I don't know you."

He saw the protest in her eyes before she even spoke, and he jumped to speak before her.

"Not _entirely_. Not then. Not now. Not _ever_."

She didn't look convinced, disgust still lingering in her narrowed eyes.

"I made you….question," he said softly. "I made you _fight_ for your beliefs. I didn't make you hate me….you chose to."

Something crossed his face that she did not expect. He _smiled_, and it hurt her to see that. It made her stomach clench in repulsion. She let out a small whimper, sliding down to the ground, curling her knees to her chest.

"I-I'm not even…_real_. H-how do I…live? Knowing who I am…comes from something I cannot abide?" she whispered. "I'm in someone else's body and I'm…afraid to give it up. I'm not better than you," she breathed, her voice low as she looked away from him. "I'm worse."

"You're human," he said quietly.

Her eyes snapped to his, an angry fire lit deep within them.

"Don't flatter yourself," she mumbled dejectedly, her eyes closing as she put her head in her hands.

They sat in dense silence, Topher not entirely sure where to look.

"So you…_we_ were never gonna…?"

"I can't stand the smell of you," she mumbled into her hands.

He gave a quiet laugh.

"I did that!" he exclaimed, "so that we would never…" her disgruntled noise brought him back to reality, "And that's….really not making you feel better…"

"Am I interrupting something?" Jane asked innocently, serious in her question.

"No. Of course not Ja…Juliet," Claire assured, wiping at her tears.

She stood, and Jane's gaze lowered slowly. It wasn't until she felt the cold air on her torso did Claire remember exactly what she was, or wasn't, wearing. In an instant, she clasped the front panels of her lab coat shut, a small flush creeping up her neck.

Topher did his best not to laugh; he was in the doghouse as it was, so he buried his face in the couch cushion, clutching at the fabric to hold back the chuckle that had built in his chest. Claire cleared her throat to coax Jane's eyes back to hers, giving her a small smile.

"Was there something you needed?"

"I don't feel well."

Claire's features softened. "Well then you've found the right person."

She put her hand softly on Jane's shoulders, gently guiding her back toward the steps. She didn't look back at Topher.

"What exactly hurts, Juliet?" she asked once they were in the safety of her office.

"I'm all…tingly," Jane admitted, extending her hands, palms up toward the doctor.

Claire frowned. She placed her own palms under Jane's hands to hold them up, squinting at them.

"Here?" she asked.

Jane didn't answer. Claire's frown deepened, and she turned to look for her hand-held scanner. Returning, she swept it over Jane's hands.

"The process in rebuilding your nervous tissue was successful, I'm sure of it," she mumbled, more to herself than to Jane. "The muscle healed perfectly, the bone…everything was good."

She pressed her thumb to Jane's palm, rubbing firmly, looking up into Jane's eyes.

"Does that hurt?"

Jane shook her head.

"No."

Claire's brow furrowed, and she dropped Jane's hand, looking into Jane's eyes as she thought of other possible causes. Jane didn't drop her hand back to her lap, though. She lifted it to run her fingers along one of Claire's scars. Claire jerked away automatically. All the Actives noticed her scars, and unlike normal humans, they were not afraid to point them out. But Jane surprised her.

"I have some of those too," she said quietly, her fingers once again, tracing along one of the silver lines almost affectionately.

This time, Claire did not pull away. She was too concerned to even feel the touch.

"Juliet, do you…remember…your hands?"

Jane's brow furrowed, her eyes looking down to her palms.

"Not there," she corrected gently.

She took Claire's hand, guiding it to her chest, in the valley between her breasts. She pressed Claire's hand flat, putting her own hand over top and adding pressure.

"Here."

"Do you remember what happened?" Claire repeated.

"She gets scared," Jane murmured. "When people touch her, she gets really scared. Or when there's no space. She jumps and kicks."

"Who?" the doctor pressed.

"I don't know," Jane admitted. "But you have them too," she once again ran the pad of her thumb of the scar on Claire's lip. "so I thought you could help me help her."

Claire relaxed noticeably, giving Jane a small, sad smile.

"We are, Juliet. I promise we are. Do…do you want a treatment?"

Jane smiled.

"Yes! Can I?" she asked excitedly.

This time, Claire's smile was forced as she unwrapped a lollipop and handed it to Jane. The woman took it eagerly, popping it in her mouth and scooting off the exam table.

"You're the best doctor, Dr. Saunders," she said, just before disappearing behind frosted glass.

Claire let out a sigh and walked the brunette back up to the chair, and, although it was against everything she believed in, it _was_ her job to tell Topher.

"She still remembers," she said quietly to him as she passed. "Go deeper."


	8. Where I Learned to Fall

**Chapter 8**

Maura stood uncertainly in the doorway of the Homicide division, file clutched in her hand. She had, in a moment of bravery, decided to bring up her report because she had finished early. Now, though, she felt all that confidence slipping away as she watched officers and detectives running around, calling out to each other.

She saw her destination, Korsak's desk, was currently occupied by not only him, but an overwhelming total of three. Detective Frost she recognized from before. It was very memorable when someone threw up in her sink. Surprisingly, it didn't happen very often. Those who knew they were squeamish usually never made appearances down in the morgue in the first place. So she admired him for his steady, albeit unsuccessful, determination.

The woman, though. She was _really_ new. The tone of her tanned skin was something Maura knew most women craved, and also very poorly replicated. From her profile view, the woman's jaw was actually quite feminine, the angle soft in contrast with her other rather edgy features. Her eyes were almost auburn, warm as she watched Korsak intently. The only reason Maura could tell that the woman's hair was brown and not black was because of the small sliver of light the blinds let through, illuminating the back half of her head. In fact, she reminded Maura very much of her regular Active.

Maura took a few steps closer, still very sure none of them had noticed her.

"Aww, c'mon Detective Korsak. I can't do that. I don't wanna be seen as _Jane Rizzoli's_ replacement! She's…God, she's a _legend_."

Korsak's warm chuckle accompanied the slight shake of his body.

"Which is why _both_ of you are…filling her spot for now. We need the help, but you're not taking her place. No one thinks you are."

"Good!" the woman laughed again, "because I could…I could _never_ live up to what she did. What she….survived."

Immediately, Maura caught the downward shift of Detective Frost's eyes. It was not that of mourning, but more of…something. Either pity or…was it…respect?

"Hoyt…Even with him screwing with her, she still just…she went after that girl when there was just…just the _slightest_ chance she was still alive. I just…she's who I want to be…as a detective," Riley worded carefully.

"I don't think I would want to come back," Frost said. "After getting tortured and…permanently injured and…" he paused. "I just don't think I'd have the same drive."

Korsak smiled sadly.

"She's a fighter, Frost. If anything, it just made her want to work harder. But her injuries need time. Her head needs time to clear. She's the best partner I ever had and if you two work even half as hard as she did, I'll be more than proud to work with you."

Maura was trying to process everything she had heard. Jane, who had worked the Surgeon case, the rather famous one, had been captured, tortured, severely damaged, but physically and emotionally, and possibly more. She took a leave of absence in order to try and regain control over her life, and she was in the process of healing. Korsak, whose respect was hard to earn, even with his kind and understanding nature, always spoke highly of her, and appeared fiercely loyal to a woman who was probably half his size and age.

But before she could find out more, though, the other woman's eyes darted up, catching her stare briefly, before flitting down to give Maura a once-over.

Korsak saw the detective's shift in attention and spun around in his chair.

"Dr. Isles!" he said warmly.

She managed to give him a weak smile.

"H-here's the autopsy reports…Detective."

She winced, and he caught it, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a small smirk. Lamely, she extended the file, trying to keep as much distance between them and her as possible. He did not allow it, though, keeping his hands clasped and resting on his stomach.

"Dr. Isles, this is Detectives Barry Frost and Riley Cooper."

"Nice to see you again, Detective Frost," she said with a nod, throwing her best smile Riley's way.

The woman extended her hand, and Maura took it as smoothly as she could, though she had to admit she had reacted a little quickly. From the forced smile she received from the female detective, Maura knew Riley had already heard of her.

"So you two are new? Joining Homicide?" she tried.

Riley's smile almost turned genuine.

"Yeah. Finally got my ass outta Vice. Frost here's from Robbery. He's been here a little longer than me, but that's only by a couple weeks. Think the Lieu was hesitant about hiring us over saving Jane's spot."

Maura tried not to frown at the name.

"Yes. Well. I'm happy for you," she said as sincerely as she could.

"We were all actually headed out," Korsak added. "I was just giving 'em a tour before the end of the day."

Maura's eyes widened.

"What? What time is it?"

"Nearly seven."

_Shit_.

She extended the file to Korsak again, and this time he humored her and took it.

"I'm sorry but I really must be going," she said calmly.

Without waiting for a response, though, she turned and walked out, grinding her teeth with every step just to keep from running.

Getting into her car, she went straight home.

Maura smiled at the car parked in her driveway as she pulled up. She tried to quiet the excitement, no, the joy she felt as she went over the notes one more time. _Name: Jessica Winthrop. Occupation: Lab Tech. Relationship: Together for two years. Separate housing. Family: Parents dead. Aunt, who she loves, lives close by._

Taking a deep breath, Maura got out of the car, walking up the front path. She unlocked the door, entering and throwing her keys in the bowl before shedding her coat.

"That you, babe?" the familiar scratchy voice called from her bathroom.

"Yeah, sorry I'm so late," Maura called back. "I know I said six—"

"You know it's alright," Jane assured. Maura could hear her better as she approached. "I had a long day, too. Really long."

Maura hesitantly pushed the door open to find that woman, that perfect woman, relaxing in her tub, her legs and arms crossed in just the right way to hide exactly what Maura wanted to see. Her eyes traveled the expanse of the bare skin unabashedly, stopping to catch her stare.

"You're a vision," Maura whispered.

She took a few steps closer, leaning herself down slowly, teasingly. Her hands gripped the edge of the tub, supporting her weight as she held herself centimeters from the brunette's lips.

"Only for me," she murmured. The possession was evident in her tone.

"Only for you," Jane agreed breathlessly.

Maura rewarded her, closing their distance and kissing her with burning intensity. Her fingers grabbed fistfuls of damp curls, forcing them closer, letting her need be known as their tongues explored. She craved this. To be taken. To be taken hard.

So what happened next surprised her.

The brunette giggled, biting her lip playfully before pulling away and leaning back against the tub wall.

"I told you, babe. I had a long day. I just need some time to unwind."

She peeked one eye open just in time to see Maura frown, and she closed it again, giving another throaty laugh.

"I never said you couldn't be here too," she murmured, her low pitch sending chills through Maura.

Yes, it wasn't exactly what she had planned on, but it would most certainly do. She stripped herself of her clothes faster than she thought possible, and when her movements stopped, Jane took the hint. Her legs and arms uncrossed, waiting for Maura to fill the gap.

Carefully, Maura eased her foot into the tub, letting the sensation of the warm water wash over her. She lowered her whole body down, her breath leaving her in a rush of air. She closed her eyes, taking in the sensation, when another sensation took hold of her.

Jane's hands, moving to rest on her hips. Even under the warm water, Maura could felt the heat radiating from under the woman's skin, calming her further. When she did not move, though, the hands glided up to the curve of her waist, tightening their grip just enough to give a gentle tug backwards. It was enough to bring Maura from her trance; she allowed herself to be pulled backwards, letting her shoulders be pulled at until she reclined against her lover.

She let her head fall back against the cool tile, her head lolling to the side until her cheek rested on Jane's, the brunette's hands once again finding purchase on her waist, gently gliding to rest atop her stomach. Maura let out a peaceful sigh as lips lingered on her cheek.

"How was your day?" the whisper was low and tantalizing in Maura's ear.

All she could focus on was the hands on her stomach, those soft thumbs tracing gentle, loving circles on either side of her navel.

"Not so great," she admitted.

She felt like every fiber of her being was melting away, falling directly into those sure hands. She was like a liquid, her chemistry professor's words coming back to her. _Liquids have definite volume but no distinct shape._ It was almost comical how much it described her. She was most certainly _there_, but without Jane's hands holding her together, she was sure she would disperse right into the slowly cooling water around them.

"Why?" Jane coaxed, her nose nuzzling behind Maura's ear before her lips took over.

"New interns contaminated a sample," Maura said slowly, forcing her words to come out evenly as Jane's teeth nipped lightly at the sensitive skin near her carotid. "I-I barely had enough DNA to begin with…"

"Should've had me there," Jane laughed airily.

Maura's breath hitched in her throat as Jane's fingers, lighter than before, started slowly downward, tracing the arches her hip bone made. Reflexively, Maura let her legs open, the outside of her knees falling to rest on the inside of Jane's.

"What else?" the brunette urged.

But Maura's mind was close to gone as Jane's hands slipped right past her core and onto her thighs.

"I…dislike having so many…bodies in the morgue at one time," Maura forced out, her eyes squeezing shut as Jane ran a finger through her wetness.

"I'm sorry, babe," she murmured, "Can I make it better?"

Maura couldn't control her trembling, her body clenched in anticipation, but Jane remained steady in her innocent movements, her light as air fingers traversing the expanse of her thighs, dipping so painfully close to her entrance before gliding up and over the crest of her hip bones. She whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Yes," she gasped out.

Jane rewarded her, one finger tracing from her entrance to her clit before she was gone again, tracing and kneading. One hand stayed at the inside of her thigh, the other moving to glide just under her breast, moving softly around and up the sensitive side.

Maura's whimper turned into a moan, her grip tightening on the thighs encircling her. Jane's insistent sucking and nipping at her neck shattered her willpower, and she rolled her hips, allowing Jane to see exactly how desperate she was.

"Please," she managed the word on the rush of her breath.

"_How_ can I make it better?" Jane asked firmly, the tip of her finger swirling about Maura's nipple.

Shivering, Maura turned her head to find Jane's lips with her own. She kissed her slowly, languidly. With their tongues rolling, massaging, Maura's muscles twitching with each of Jane's evanescent caresses, Maura realized how new this was.

How much she craved it.

"Make love to me," she whispered.

Although any other time, she would've been embarrassed for such a phrase, she knew that right then, she meant every word.

It was exactly what she got.

Jane's kisses were deeper, sweeter somehow as her hands made their final descent down Maura's sides. How gentle she was, soft with every movement. She stroked her gently, inside and out. It was unhurried. Lazy.

Yet Maura couldn't help but feel _more_.

Every action was for her sole pleasure. No other motives.

It burned and swelled and crashed within her, following Jane's guiding hands right to the edge, keeping her there just long enough for Maura to process how far the fall was. Her body didn't seem to mind as the beginnings of her orgasm overtook her.

Jane's steady hands, firm and cognizant of their actions, held her tightly as she fell off the precipice and into the throes of a passion she had forgotten. How much time passed, she had no idea, but after wave after wave of exhausting, blinding pleasure, Maura came to, the side of her head flat to Jane's chest.

"I lost you for a little bit there," she chuckled lightly.

"That was…that…wow…" Maura mumbled out, lifting her chin to kiss Jane chastely.

Jane smiled against her lips and shifted slightly to get a firmer pressure, but the movement sent the water sloshing against Maura, sending chills through her. It was freezing.

Her body twitched to get away from the water, and Jane laughed again.

"Cold?"

"_Yes_. How long've we been here?!"

"Oh, y'know…a while."

Maura laced her fingers in Jane's and lifted it out of the water, inspecting the pruning on both their fingers.

"You didn't get us out?"

"You were out cold!" Jane protested. "I didn't wanna like…break you or something."

Maura sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Fine. Do you want out now?"

"No, Maur. I think I wanna sit in this ice bath for the rest of the night. It'll do _wonders_ for my skin—"

Maura whacked her shoulder, the wet skin slapping and echoing through the bathroom.

"OW!" Jane laughed, standing abruptly and knocking Maura slightly off-balance.

The honey-blonde grinned and stood too, accepting the towel she was handed.

"Did you umm," Jane cleared her throat. "Did you wanna…spend the night?"

Maura smirked.

"So much conviction," she teased.

"Shut up," Jane muttered, and Maura heard the slight hint of ego-bruised deflation she hadn't been supposed to hear.

"Aww, sweetie, don't be like that."

She walked over and cupped Jane's face, looking deep into the brunette's vulnerable eyes.

"How many times have you asked me that?"

"A…a lot…" Jane admitted.

"And. How many times have I refused?" Maura asked, hoping the answer was the same one she predicted.

"…None."

"Right. Now let's go," she lightly pushed Jane backwards, and the brunette allowed herself to be guided.

"Could we _not_ get dressed?" she asked shyly.

Maura grinned, then pulled it back, pretending to think.

"Oh…I don't know. It's pretty cold."

"Oh!" Jane exclaimed excitedly. "What was that fact you said about body heat?!"

The unadulterated joy Maura saw in the brunette's face as she tugged them both into bed made it almost impossible for her not to grin in the same way.

"If ever stranded somewhere cold, cuddling with another person completely nude generates more heat than if both of you were clothed in sweats and coats."

The triumphant glint in those chocolate brown eyes made Maura want to melt on the spot, and she folded herself into the woman's arms, loving how it felt to have them wrapped so securely around her.

Not soon after that, Maura was transported to her regular dreamless sleep. A few times, she swore she heard whimpering. Somewhere distant. Or really close. She couldn't tell. Either way, all she got was a few shallow hours of sleep. She was pulled from the warmth of her slumber by a low buzzing, but her body refused to move. An annoyed groan came from the woman behind her, those strong arms still wrapped around her.

"Phone," Jane mumbled against Maura's neck.

Still, Maura couldn't seem to reach toward the offending noise.

"_PHONE," _Jane groaned more forcefully, lightly nudging Maura with her whole body.

When she got no response, the brunette simply rolled on top of Maura grabbing the phone and answer herself.

"What do you want?" she snapped with a scratchy voice.

Something felt off in the back of Maura's mind. It was pulling at her, telling her she should take the phone, but the warmth Jane's body was giving her, so bare and solid on top of her, muddled whatever drive she had.

"_No_," Jane grumbled. "I don't know you, dude—"

That did it.

Maura's eyes shot open, and she snatched the phone from Jane.

"D-detective Korsak! Yes, yes of course. I am _so_ sorry. I'm on my way."

She hung up the phone, taking a few more moments to soak in the wonderful feeling of the brunette, before heaving the woman off of her.

"Work?" Jane mumbled into her pillow.

"I'm afraid so," Maura affirmed, her tone guilty.

Immediately Jane picked up on it, her eyes opening. She watched the honey-blonde stand, throwing her robe on and opening her closet door. She stood there for a long time, not touching anything, just staring into the closet. Jane realized why. Maura always wanted to make a good impression on these people.

Jane rolled herself out of bed, taking a few tentative steps closer.

"Did you want me to help?"

"Help what? I'm just getting dressed."

"What if I make coffee for everyone?"

Maura's eyes darted up to look at Jane, confusion in them.

"Why? They probably already bought coffee. It's not…it wouldn't…"

She stopped talking when gentle fingers began tracing up and down her jawline.

"It'd be the thought behind it, sweetie," Jane murmured. "When dealing with people, you just gotta run on instinct."

Maura swore her heart would beat out of her chest. The way that woman was looking at her with such…adoration. How she wanted to help. In that small piece in time, Maura felt like she had actually _connected_ with someone. An actual human being, not just some…made up living, breathing doll.

Then something else hit her. The strangeness of what the brunette had said.

"What does a lab tech know about…instinct?" she asked, the smallest frown on her face before she could stop it.

She cringed. That was rude. It was inconsiderate, and ignorant, but she had just…said it anyway. Maybe this was why no one liked her. She waited to be snapped at, cursed. Jane did no such thing. When she looked back into the warm brown eyes, though, they were amused, and a laugh followed.

"I really don't know," Jane admitted, laughing again. "But it felt right to say. Now c'mon. You get dressed. I'll go make some fancy-schmancy coffees with your super elaborate machine thingy."

Maura nodded ever so slightly, and the brunette grinned at her. She tilted Maura's chin upward, keeping a firm hold of it as she kissed her, and Maura's head began to spin once again. So sexy. She leaned into the kiss, running her tongue over Jane's lip, trying to prolong the moment.

Jane must have sensed this because she chuckled, guiding Maura's face back, keeping her fingers firmly in place on Maura's chin.

"You're incredible," she said firmly, "but I can't support you on my pathetic thirty-five thousand dollar annual salary."

Maura frowned. Jane's mischievous smirk did not falter.

"You therefore need to get your sorry ass to work," she tilted Maura's head up once again to kiss her. "So instead of worrying about our impending bankruptcy," she kissed her more firmly, "I can focus every. Effort. On. You."

She punctuated each remaining word with a kiss, letting Maura go once she had finished.

"We clear?"

Maura hummed, her eyes fluttering closed as she nodded.

"Great."

Lips were on hers again, chaste but loving, before Jane hurried away and into the kitchen.

"Jess?" Maura called out, opening her eyes.

"Yeah?" Jane asked, stopping her retreat and turning back.

"Thank you," Maura said firmly.

Jane smiled.

"Anything for you, babe."


	9. Where I Couldn't Measure Up

**Chapter 9**

Not ten minutes later, Maura pulled up to the crime scene, hot and bothered as well as nervous and just overall on edge. Coffees in one hand, her bag in the other, she took a deep breath before actually walking over. She nodded curtly to the officer at the entrance, smiling as he lifted the tape for her.

She almost felt like she fit in.

As she approached the slew of detectives, she noticed, with resounding relief, that none of them were sporting their usual coffee. She neared, and the sound of her heels betrayed her, all three of them turning around.

Their eyes lit up at the refreshing sight of both Maura and their ultimate savior, caffeine.

"Ya didn't have to, Maura!" Frost exclaimed, but didn't decline the drink she handed him.

Korsak and Riley nodded their agreement, taking a few seconds to enjoy the first sip. Maura slipped on her gloves in the meantime, crouching down by the body of a young girl, no more than twenty. The detectives watched her in silence for a few minutes before Korsak spoke up.

"So…" he started.

Maura looked up at him, but did not stand up, expecting him to discuss their findings with her.

"Dr. Isles was on a different kinda call."

Her mouth dropped open slightly in shock, a warmth flooding her cheeks as she snapped it closed, her teeth audibly knocking together.

"Oh, _really_?" Frost asked, his tone clear that he was exaggerating his interest, simply to further fluster the M.E. "Was it, by chance, a _booty_ call?"

She stood up quickly.

"I-I was…I might…But…"

She didn't know what to say.

"Maybe!" she finally forced out, her blush deepening.

"She sounded _fine_ lemme tell ya," Korsak laughed.

Maura's mind was on overdrive, working to gauge each detective's reaction. Korsak's half-smile and glint in his eye told her that her sexual preference meant almost nothing to him. It told her he would talk to her about sex as he would with any other man. Frost looked to be about the same, but the slight humor in his eyes also told her she was in for shameless teasing. Riley's face showed that of genuine shock, fusing quickly to something of an almost accepting relief. Maura would recognize that anywhere. Realized misinterpretation.

_Grateful_ realized misinterpretation.

Apparently Riley had assumed her to be straight, but instead of it being a neutral realization like the guys, she seemed…_more_ okay with a gay Maura than a straight one.

Why?

But then Riley's took a sip of coffee, masking her emotions behind the cup.

"She?" Frost asked, his grin growing.

"Mhm," Korsak nodded.

"I…Yes. Someone was _there_," Maura tried.

"But…Dr. Isles!" Frost said, feigning innocence in his lead-up, "I seem to recall you live alone."

"I-I…do," Maura mumbled. "Could we…maybe discuss the case?"

"Oh, no," Korsak laughed, "You're not getting out of this. Who is she? One-nighter?"

Maura was too flustered to call the guys out on their possibly disrespectful behavior, bowing her head and trying not to look at them.

"Not exactly," she offered, trying to walk away, her shyness once again overpowering her will to try and tease back casually.

Frost must have sensed this, because he caught her arm, and she looked back at him.

"We didn't mean anything by it, Dr. Isles," he tried.

She gave him a forced smile, trying not to shrug off his touch.

"I know," she said quietly, trying to soften her smile.

Still, Frost did not look convinced.

"Come to the Robber with us later," Korsak jumped in.

"Oh…I couldn't."

She looked at Korsak, and the twinge of sadness she saw in his eyes made her want to at least give an excuse.

"I want to get a head start on the autopsy, give you something to start with in the morning."

Riley shrugged as if it was nothing.

"We still have to process the scene. We'd probably be done 'round the same time."

Maura worried her lip between her teeth, looking back and forth between the detectives' faces.

"I'll try to make it," she said quickly, pushing past the detectives to head back to her car.

The second she was in the safety of her car, she let her panic wash over her. Her hands shook as she tried to fit the key into the ignition, and after finally succeeding, she drove off, breathing deeply to try and fend off her impending panic attack.

She couldn't go.

No way.

She _couldn't_.

Could she?

* * *

Jane sat at the arts table with other Actives staring down at her nearly blank page. Claire approached, sinking down to her knees beside the brunette.

"How are you, Jane?" she asked.

"Fine."

Jane's brush strokes increased in speed until almost all the page was covered in the black. Claire frowned.

"Mind if I see?"

She waited until she received the smallest of nods, then gently pulled the painting closer to her. In the small, barely there dot of white, she could make out the some numbers and letters.

V825.

She tried to hide her grimace.

That was when she realized she had addressed the woman as Jane.

And she had responded.

"Sweetie?" she asked carefully.

"Yes?"

"What's your name?"

"Juliet."

"Juliet what?"

"Just Juliet."

Claire stood slowly.

"Alright," she said hesitantly.

Topher didn't have to know about this.

* * *

Maura sat at her desk, staring down at her finished autopsy preliminary, including the toxicology report, noted trace evidence, and an external examination of the inflicted wounds. And she was looking for more to do. Any excuse.

Susie knocked lightly out of habit, and when she looked into the office, Maura caught the shock that flashed on her face in finding that Maura was still there.

"Dr. Isles? Didn't I hear you got invited to the Robber with the Detectives?"

Maura cleared her throat and stood, keeping the file clutched in her hand.

"Yes. Yes, I suppose I was," she said quietly. "But I don't think I'm going."

"But you have to!" Susie protested. "You just have to. They don't like us very much. But they-they're giving you an in, they're giving you an opportunity. You should take it."

Maura frowned. She already knew this; she just didn't know if she had the courage to go through with it. Instead of answering, she just took a step towards the door.

"It was nice seeing you Susie—Dr. Chang—_Senior Criminalist_ Chang," she stumbled. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah." Susie said. "And Maura?...You can call me Susie," she said with a laugh. "I won't forget your authority. I promise."

Maura considered, slowly nodding.

"I'll hold you to that…Susie," she said, the smallest hint of a smile on the edges of her lips as she escaped into the hallway.

Maura sat in her car for a long time, still holding onto that stupid file. She was conflicted; she wanted to go, she really did. But she was afraid that going meant they'd see who she really was. As if they didn't already see who she was to begin with. Maybe they knew and they just didn't care. Or maybe they didn't know, and when they found out, they would hate her more than they did now. The idea petrified her.

Of all the things in the world she feared most, being an annoyance to someone was at the top of her list. She tried to fit it. She did, she really did. She tried to follow shortened language, body language. She tried to follow everything in hopes she could just blend into the background. Good God, she hated being noticed. She hated being a pain to someone, and yet it seemed to be what she was doing constantly. Putting someone off. Accidentally stepping in front of someone. For some reason she just couldn't do anything right when it came to interacting with another person. So that's _really_ why she was afraid of people. She was afraid of what they thought of her.

Either way, Susie had been right. She needed to at least try and befriend these detectives.

She started her car and drove the few blocks very, very slowly to the Dirty Robber parking lot. She sat in that parking lot for a good deal longer, staring at the clock, hoping the bar would close. But of course it wouldn't close, it was only one o'clock in the morning. She still had a good hour, possibly two.

With a weary sigh, she killed her engine, slowly opening the car door and stepping out. Each step she took toward the front door felt like a direct blow to her heart. Like she was being punched repeatedly, until she was gasping for breath, her vision blurring at the edges.

She stopped at the front door, resting her weight against it as she tried to breathe, tried to think.

_It's okay_, she said to herself. _It's OKAY_.

But the words were still lies.

_Just go in there. Have a few drinks with them. Then go home. Like Detective Korsak said, I don't even have to say anything._

Still. She couldn't force herself. And for the first time in a long time, she was actually angry with herself. She felt frustrated tears welling up in her eyes, burning as they fell. Why did she have to be so messed up? Why couldn't she just be normal? She just wanted to be normal.

She brushed the tears away as best she could, but with her shortness of breath, she was sure her face was red, swollen even. She snuck a glance through the window, catching sight of the detectives that had offered her the invitation. Riley had her head thrown back in an easy laugh, her one hands finding Frost's shoulder for support. He was chuckling too. The other detectives' faces, Maura could not see, but something caught their attention, as they all looked further into the bar.

Riley and Frost scooted down in the booth, making room for someone else. Korsak. Detective Korsak. Vince.

He slid onto the end seat, grinning at his coworkers before reclining back, beer held loosely in one hand. Even Maura didn't know what it was that made him shift his gaze, but he glanced just for a moment out the window. Their eyes met. She knew how bad she looked. And as he looked at her, he gave her nothing. No indication. No signal to come in. No signal to leave. No signal that it was alright. Just…a sad looking smile, like he already knew she was going to leave anyway, before turning back to Riley and joining in the conversation.

She was both half hurt and half grateful. Because had he waved her in, she would have felt obligated, even in her pitiful looking state, to go in. But still. He hadn't really wanted her there. Or maybe he did. She really didn't know.

She didn't feel like she was enough for these people. And with tears still in her eyes, she went back to her car and drove straight to the Dollhouse. She didn't bother calling. She didn't bother doing anything, she just needed help.

And, still crying, more like sobbing hysterically, she found her way down to the Dollhouse elevator and straight into DeWitt's office. The woman appeared, her hair slightly damp from a shower she had probably just taken.

She frowned and walked over carefully, putting a hand on Maura's shoulder.

"Come on, sit down, Maura," she said.

She didn't say it was going to be alright. She didn't know. She just knew Maura needed to calm down.

"I-I-I need someone," Maura stuttered out, trying to stem her tears.

But once she managed to rein them in for a few seconds, the next wave just collapsed down around her, stronger, her body shaking. Adelle handed her a tissue.

"I'm not giving you an Active," she said sternly.

"W-why not?" Maura mumbled, wiping her eyes, with no success.

"Because. You need a real person. I'm a real person; You can talk to me."

"B-b-but, Adelle—"

"Don't argue with me. You know it, okay? I'm not going to judge you, dear."

"I just…I-I am _so _alone," Maura tried.

Adelle didn't say anything right away. She just nodded.

"Well yes, dear. You've been alone all your life. That's not it."

"I know." Maura said quietly. "I…I don't…I both love it, and I…I'm afraid I'll be that way for the rest of my life."

Maura took in a shaky breath, letting it out slowly, not speaking until she was sure her crying was done.

"I want to learn how to _be_ with people," Maura tried. "But I don't know how. So…It just…hurts. It hurts just as much to be with people as…as it does to be alone, but I _want_ it. I want….love. I want…responsibility for someone. _To_ someone. I just…want what everybody talks about." She smiled sadly. "I want friends and I want family and I want someone who loves me. But I just can't seem to make myself…_make_ friends. And I know people aren't just going to be thrown at me, but that's…how I wish it was. I just don't…I don't know _how_ to do it…"

Adelle let her finish, and allowed a silence to pass over them, even if only for a little bit.

"Maura…do you know why I started working at the Dollhouse?"

The honey-blonde shook her head, wiping her eyes with a fresh tissue.

"For all the reasons you just said," Adelle laughed. "I wanted to be responsible for someone. And these…these people, these Actives, they became my responsibility. My staff…became my family. I will protect them until the day I die. Some people might laugh and say what the Dollhouse gives isn't real. But they don't know. If they understood what true love was, then they wouldn't be saying that. You might be scared, but you're…taking steps. You're _trying_. You're interacting with these Actives like they're regular people and they _are _regular people, you're interacting with me. And I know you're scared because you have to do the same in your personal life and how it's different because we, me and the Actives, are detached. You aren't stuck with us permanently. But you have to trust that you can find your way, because you, Maura Isles, are brilliant. You are _brilliant_. There is not a damn thing that you won't be able to figure out in your lifetime."

"You don't know that," Maura mumbled.

"Oh, yes I do," Adelle laughed harshly. "I know that for a fact. You just have to try. You have to let yourself feel. But why should you listen to me? Because." Another bitter laugh. "Take it from a woman who never did, and lost her chance. Now she's Queen of Make-Believe-World. There's someone out there for you. There is someone out there who is _made _ for you. You just have to look harder. And Maura. If you ever need anything, you can _always_ talk to me."

Maura nodded.

"Can…can I stay here for the night?" she asked quietly.

Adelle smiled and nodded.

"Yes. Yeah, Maura. Yeah, you can. How about you take that couch and I'll take this one."

"Oh, no," Maura protested. "You've got a bed. Go!"

"I've also got a couch," Adelle said stubbornly. "Now sit."

Maura smiled gratefully at the woman, who disappeared for a moment only to return with blankets. She accepted one and sprawled herself out, closing her eyes and relaxing.

* * *

"Hi!"

Maura jolted awake at the perky female voice.

"_Topher_," Adelle admonished from somewhere in the vicinity of her desk. "What did I tell you about bringing Actives up here?"

Rubbing her eyes, Maura sat up to come nose to nose with that stunning brunette.

"Well, I needed to talk to you…about her. I figured she should…be here," she heard Topher say somewhere behind her.

She wasn't listening to him anymore, though. All her attention was focused on the woman so close to her. Eventually, the brunette sat up straight, giving a respectable distance between them.

"I'm Juliet."

Maura sat up a little straighter.

"Maura," she said.

"You're really pretty."

She was sure she looked horrible: day old makeup, mussed bed head, wrinkled clothes.

"Thank you," she said anyway.

For a moment, the woman didn't say anything. She looked distracted, but then her gaze finally looked _at _Maura instead of simply looking.

"Do I know you?"

She seemed blissfully unaware of Maura's discomfort, her eyes unabashedly taking in her appearance. Maura felt like those eyes could see every molecule of her being. It scared her.

"No. I don't think so."

"Maura…Maura, Maura, Maura, Maura…Maura."

The name drifted away from her lips, dissolving into the air around them as she thought, but unlike a normal person, the brunette did not let her eyes wander with her thoughts. Her gaze stayed perfectly still and intense on Maura's face.

"I know you," she insisted.

"Sorry…" Maura offered half-heartedly.

Jane's brow creased in concentration as she carefully extended her hand, pressing it slowly to Maura's shoulder. For a second, that's all she did, her palm pressed to Maura's skin, but the next second, she jerked away, as if burned, her sharp intake of breath heavy with a lustful release. Her eyes widened, but instead of her pupils constricting with the increase of light, they darkened, her mouth open in the smallest 'o'.

Maura didn't know what the woman saw, but recognition was definitely swimming in her eyes. She certainly remembered more skin than Maura's clothes were allowing her eyes to see.

"I..I _do_," Jane said, more to herself. "But…why…why say I…didn't?"

Maura's brow furrowed as she considered how to explain. The woman in front of her, whom she had seen in so many capacities, now sounded like a child. Simple sentences and overenthusiastic giddiness. Her eyes sparkled just a little brighter, unhindered by past horrors. Maura didn't want to ruin that.

"I…I wasn't sure if you…did," Maura said honestly.

The crease in Jane's brow deepened, and she gently reached for Maura's arm again, stroking it lightly.

"She remembers you too," she said quietly, her eyes flitting to the arguing Topher and Adelle before looking straight into Maura's eyes.

"Who?" Maura asked.

Jane frowned, as if offended Maura didn't understand.

"Her," she said firmly, pointing to her chest, tapping her sternum. "Her. You met her. Sometimes, I can't protect her like I'm supposed to. Sometimes, she's just stronger than me, and you're there. You see her, but…you don't…You don't _see_ her."

The brunette paused, leaning in a little closer, her eyes never leaving Maura's.

"She sees you."

Staring deep into the woman's eyes, Maura almost understood. She saw the child so obvious and radiant in the forefront, and then somewhere deeper, swirled and diluted in the dark brown, she saw hints of someone petrified. Contradictory, paradoxical, but definitely there.

"Who?" she repeated. Who was this woman? Who was either of these women? Was Juliet, the wiped, Tabula Rasa state a person too? Was she as present as the previous resident? And who was that?

"Shhh," Jane whispered, closing their minimal distance in a fierce kiss, her hands tangling in Maura's already tragic hair.

It was so abrupt, Maura couldn't respond. She just sat frozen, feeling those soft lips on hers, until they weren't there anymore. She blinked, met with the sight of Topher, his arms wrapped around Jane, physically holding the woman from Maura. She was kicking and whining and almost crying, and Adelle was already at Maura's side, hand on her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," Adelle said, "Something's wrong with her. We've been trying to get the right kind of wiping process on her, but someone always resurfaces, be it her Tabula Rasa or even J—" She caught herself. "The resident herself."

"How does that work?" Maura asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Sometimes, when the initial transfer process occurs, a piece of him or her stays within their body, deeper than we usually need to go. Because that piece, that small, miniscule piece stays behind, the person can rebuild themselves back in their own bodies. All they need is a piece, and it's like they never left. So, when we see that occurring, we dig deeper, to find the piece we left behind, but this woman…this woman is so engrained in herself, we…we can't seem to take her away."

Maura nodded slowly. She thought she understood.

"Will she be…okay?"

"Oh, yes," Adelle assured. "Five years' time, Topher will re-imprint the original woman, and she'll be fine. Better than she was."

Off Maura's hesitant look, she squeezed her shoulder tighter.

"I promise. And you can still go on engagements with her. It just means we have to keep an extra watchful eye on her."

Maura looked at Adelle for a long second, then looked to Jane, who wasn't fighting much anymore, just sort of hanging loosely in Topher's hold. Their eyes met, and Jane gave the smallest smile, followed by a quick wink, and Maura blushed.

She didn't know why.


	10. Where I Don't Belong

**Chapter 10**

A deafening roar from the street caught Maura's attention as she put the finishing touches on her ensemble. She moved the curtain aside with one hand, the other preoccupied fixing her earring.

There, right outside her house, was a motorcycle.

Why?

She squinted at the person dismounting the bike, her eyes widening as the helmet lifted, revealing those perfect raven curls.

Oh.

_Oh_.

Her mouth went dry as Jane ran a hand through her hair to try and fix it. The leather jacket she was wearing hugged her curves and kept the definition of her arms and...Maura tried to keep her breathing steady, but it stayed shallow, her pulse pounding in her neck.

How was she supposed to go an entire night without jumping this woman?

Why had she _agreed _to go an entire night without jumping this woman?

Well…that wasn't necessarily true. She could _try_ if she really wanted to, but the card Topher had given her specifically told her that her relationship with this woman was not at that point yet.

She dropped the curtain, because any more staring at that woman and she wouldn't even make it to the art gallery.

One last look in the mirror and she was satisfied, making her way slowly down the steps.

She couldn't wait to hold Jane's hand and walk around on her arm and talk with her all night…Wait.

Her feet froze where they were, two steps from the front door.

Where did those thoughts come from? There was nothing lustful about holding hands or _any_ of that…Did…was she…? No. No, she couldn't be. She could not be in love with this woman. No way. She was a different woman every time. She couldn't be in love with all of them, all of whom she'd only met once. And she couldn't love her body or her face…

Who was she in love with?

She thought hard. Really hard.

She loved the woman who cared for her. Who gave her advice. Who opened up and told funny little stories, be them informative or embarrassing…Still.

She was in love.

And she didn't even know who she was in love with.

Not good. Really, really not good.

No.

She had to stop seeing this woman.

She peeked out through the panel of glass at the side of her front door. Her cheeks flushed at the way Jane was leaning so casually against the bike, the tone of her stomach visible through her shirt. How could she just leave that alone?

Nope.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

She had to stop seeing her.

She couldn't stop seeing her.

She _had_ to.

She opened one eye once again.

She _couldn't_.

Flinging the door open, she rushed outside.

"Hey!" Jane called brightly, politely straightening her stance.

Maura shoved all her previous thoughts out the window, smiling warmly at the brunette.

"Hello, yourself. I don't recall you mentioning a motorcycle."

"I didn't," Jane said with a grin. "I wanted to surprise you."

"We're going to a formal art gallery," Maura said pointedly. "Isn't it a little…"

"Rebellious?" Jane's pride was obviously boosted. "I like a little excitement."

Maura couldn't seem to wipe the smile off her face, though the very explicit thoughts running through her mind were almost enough.

"You look…really nice," the brunette continued.

Maura smiled wider.

"Thank you. But you can tell me that later. We're going to be late."

Jane chuckled and shrugged out of her jacket.

"Here. It'll protect you," she said softly as she guided it up Maura's shoulders.

Maura's heart took off at the gentlemanly gesture, any disappointment she had previously felt at Jane removing the sexy jacket already swept away.

She watched Jane mount the bike, then carefully crawled on behind her. She wrapped her arms around Jane to brace for the ride, but Jane didn't go. Maura could feel her body shaking under her grasp, and she put her chin on Jane's shoulder to get a better look at the brunette's face.

It was scrunched up in painful joy as she tried to keep her laughing silent.

"What?" Maura asked.

"Y'know you can get a little closer, right? I don't bite," she managed to get out before laughing a little more loudly.

Maura gave a small pout. She thought she was being courteous. But apparently that wasn't what Jane wanted, so she scooted up close. Really close. Her entire body was flat against Jane's back, her arms with a tight hold around Jane's waist.

"Better?" she asked against Jane's neck.

Jane swallowed audibly, nodding.

"Put on the helmet," she said, reaching for a second one.

"I don't want helmet-hair!" Maura exclaimed.

Jane rolled her eyes.

"Yeah and wind-swept frizzy hair would be so much better, especially with the added threat of death hovering over you."

Maura gave her an irritated face.

"Alright, alright. You don't have to use sarcasm on me," she mumbled, pulling the offered helmet on before wrapping her arms around Jane once again.

The ride was exhilarating. Her heart was pounding fast enough with Jane in between her legs. The rush that came from the feeling of weaving between cars made her almost light-headed. She just held onto Jane even more tightly, resting her head to Jane's shoulder until they slowed to a stop in the parking lot.

Jane held the bike for her as she dismounted, the brunette following quickly after. They both pulled their helmets off, Jane's hair just as wild and yet completely immaculate as it was before. She smiled at Maura's self-conscious look, hanging both the helmets on the bike before going back to Maura's side.

Gently, she ran her fingers through Maura's hair, fixing the minor imperfections the honey-blonde could not see without a mirror. She then carefully ran her fingers down the front lock, tucking it behind Maura's ear. Her fingers lingered at the edge of Maura's jaw, her eyes locking with Maura's for long seconds.

She leaned forward hesitantly, letting their lips press together firmly yet so…so softly.

Maura could see fire and stars and collapsing worlds.

Jane then abruptly pulled away, clearing her throat. Maura didn't miss the blush nearly masked under the tan Italian skin.

Was that their first kiss? No. Wasn't that. First kiss in public? Probably.

Just to be sure, she rocked up onto her toes and gave Jane a firmer, more heated kiss.

"C'mon, Jordan," Maura said to relieve her of her insecurity. "We're going to be late."

Jane groaned, but allowed herself to be guided toward the hotel.

"Can I clarify this one more time?" she asked.

"Yes," Maura said, her amusement evident.

"We're going on a date."

"Yes."

"To an art installment."

"Yes."

"Where we will, almost certainly, see your mother, whom you are not on the best of terms with."

"Yes!" Maura laughed, putting her chin on Jane's shoulder and kissing her cheek.

"…and I haven't even seen you naked yet?"

"_Jordan!_" Maura berated, slapping Jane's arm.

"What?!" Jane cringed away playfully. "Jeez, woman, calm down! I was just _clarifying_!"

"Why?" Maura asked slyly. "Do you _want_ to see me naked?"

Jane chuckled, dipping down to kiss Maura quickly (and more confidently) before focusing back on walking.

"Sweetie, I've been mentally undressing you for the past two months. That's not the point."

"What _is_ the point?"

"Most couples…they do bigger favors because they want to keep having sex. I can't be pussy whipped already, can I?"

"Oh." Maura's face fell. She hadn't thought of that. "I'm sorry. Normal social standards aren't my strong suit…I just…If you're uncomfortable—"

"—Then I would've told you back when you asked, or at your place earlier, or on the way—"

Maura cut her off with a kiss, smiling against Jane's lips.

"I get it," she murmured, kissing the brunette again.

"Good…I was just messing with you anyway," Jane said quietly, pulling back enough to look Maura in the eye. "So…should we get this show on the road?"

"Yes," Maura said with a nod. "Yes we should."

Security let them through, and hand in hand, they walked through the different wings. Maura only had half her attention on the pieces. Mostly, she found herself enraptured with the adorable faces Jane made, namely the slight crease in her brow from her deep concentration, and the crinkle in her nose when she scrunched it up every so often.

She had expected this woman to be like her. She had expected her to have a higher background, as she had specifically asked for someone who would _impress_ her mother and _enjoy_ an art gallery. But she could tell, just by looking, that this woman had the perspective of art that came from someone common.

"These make me feel like I'm personally victimizing society by living on my own," Jane muttered.

Maura laughed quietly.

"Seriously!" Jane exclaimed, trying not to laugh too. "Why? All I'm looking at is garbage and glass made to look like water!"

"You don't like it?" Maura asked.

"I never said that! I love art. This isn't bad either. Be even so, it's so much harder to enjoy without a clear purpose. And I…I see her message. I just wish I know her _goal_—"

"You sound like some of the people I work with," Maura laughed.

"Oh?"

"Yes. They've got this…this sort of curiosity. I find it so admirable, that they…that they really do _want_ to know what happened to the victims…"

She knew the heavy subject wasn't helping her, and she unconsciously squeezing Jane's hand tighter. She hated screwing things up, especially the little moments she seemed to find with this woman.

"Did you just call me admirable?" Jane quipped.

"M-maybe," Maura stuttered. "Indirectly, I suppose."

"Aww, c'mon! Stick with your compliment!"

"I…Well, alright. I think you're admirable. And beautiful. And very art-savvy."

Jane rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. If I didn't know you better, I'd start to think you were venturing into sarcasm land."

"I was serious! I was trying flattery."

"I know," Jane laughed. "That's why I said 'If I didn't know you better.' Now can we please get back to figuring out your mother's hidden agenda here? Please?"

Maura cleared her throat in mock-professionalism.

"Yes. Of course…except. It appears you'll be able to simply ask her," Maura said, a fake smile already donned as she looked at someone in the crowd.

"Maura, darling, I'm thrilled you could make it."

Her mother appeared from behind a crowd, the artist simply kissing her daughter on the cheek. Maura squeezed Jane's hand more firmly, tugging her closer.

"Mother, this is my girlfriend, Jordan."

Jane extended her hand, and Constance took it with a professional smile, but Maura could see they were both sizing each other up.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Constance asked, clasping her hands together and looking between the two women.

"Your work is very profound. I'm not surprised at all by the success of the gallery," Maura quickly praised.

"And you?"

"Well, y'know, besides the guilty pangs I'm getting from being an independent person, I'd say I'm having a great time. But kudos to you…for making me feel it in the first place. That takes talent."

Maura saw shock flash in her mother's eyes, and she felt panic start to seep in. What was going on? The Dollhouse had never failed her before, but she wasn't entirely sure how this would leave a good impression on her mother.

"So then," Constance said, her tone clipped. "If you don't mind me asking, what on Earth is an _independent_ woman such as yourself doing tied down to my daughter?"

Jane laughed. "Because, Ma'am. Your daughter's better than any independence I've ever known. I dunno if you know, but she's just about the smartest, most thoughtful, caring, warm person I've ever met. She is loyal and loving and I would give up my independence for her before I gave it up for the world, as you are so boldly telling me to do through your art."

Constance opened her mouth to speak, but Jane cut her off.

"And. I'll have you know, I'm honored that your daughter picked me. Hell, I'm _surprised_ she did. Maura's more beautiful than _Winged Victory_ and _l'Origine du Monde_ combined."

Maura blushed a shade of crimson, the bold words pounding in her ears almost as loudly as her heartbeat, and she grabbed Jane by the arm to tug her away, not even bothering to look at her mother.

"You just compared me to the Goddess Nike _and_ implied to my mother that we've had sex," she hissed as they weaved through the crowd.

"Yeah, well it wasn't anything she hadn't already assumed!" Jane protested. "And I didn't imply we've had sex; I just…implied I've seen you naked."

"Which we've already established you _haven't_."

"Yeah. Well. It's fun to pretend," Jane muttered, allowing herself to be dragged outside.

"Of all the naked paintings out there, you had to pick the one that is focused entirely on the woman's vag—"

"YES," Jane laughed. "I needed to knock your mother off her high horse, and that seemed like the easiest way to do it!"

"I've never even remotely stood up to my mother," Maura said, her panic showing clearly now. "I…she…what just happened? Is she going to disown me? Is she going to tell me to never speak to you again?"

Her breathing quickened, and Jane instantly put her hand on the woman's shoulder, guiding her to sit on the motorcycle.

"Maura, sweetie, it's okay. Just take deep breaths."

"That was…that was _exhilarating_," Maura let the words drift off with her exhale.

She peered up at Jane, giving the brunette her first look into dark, aroused eyes.

"Jesus," Jane breathed.

She had just enough time to realize what was going on before Maura threw her arms around Jane's neck and pulled her down for a less than appropriate kiss in public. She held Maura's weight as best she could, tentatively wrapping her hands around Maura's back. Just when she was afraid she needed oxygen, Maura pulled away.

"Maur," Jane gasped. "I…I think we…I think we should talk about this."

Maura pouted, her grip on Jane's neck not loosening.

"Now?" she asked.

Jane half-smiled, still trying to rein in her breathing.

"How about I take you home, first, huh?"

Although not entirely satisfied with the answer, Maura nodded. The ride back was almost _more_ tortuous than the ride up. Her heart still raced from the speed and the close proximity to Jane's wonderful body. The difference this time was the much more noticeable heat between her legs. She tried to ignore it, squeezing her eyes shut tight inside the helmet, gripping around Jane's waist like a vice.

They pulled to a stop outside Maura's house, and she managed to dismount more gracefully than her first attempt. She waited for Jane to get off as well before making her way up to the front door. She opened it and entered, knowing full well if she had held it open for Jane, she would've gotten a furrowed brow and scrunched up nose.

She went straight for the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of wine and grabbing a beer for her guest. Turning back around, she found Jane already sitting on the couch. The brunette took the drink, but simply put it in her lap, staring down at it.

"I know we haven't really…talked about it," Jane said carefully.

Maura kept her face neutral, her hands to herself as she sat, trying so desperately to ignore the voice screaming at her deep inside her head. _You're in love with her. How in the hell are you in love with her?_

Jane chanced a glance up at Maura. "And I know I've been…reserved."

Off Maura's raised eyebrows, she blushed and dropped her gaze once again.

"Okay, like a fucking nun," she muttered.

Maura saw her walls closing up, and she wanted nothing more than to stop them. Without thinking, she wasn't sure if any other thought was going through her head besides 'love', she climbed into Jane's lap and cupped her face to force their eyes to meet.

"Don't do that," she said softly. "Keep going."

She pressed her lips so tenderly to Jane's, the brunette quivered beneath her. She slipped off Jane's lap, but left her hands on her knees, rubbing them softly.

"I just…I…I'm no good at this."

Maura couldn't help the small laugh she gave.

"You're not," she admitted.

"But that's the point," Jane pressed. "You deserve more."

Maura's brow furrowed.

More than what?

Jane frowned and hesitantly took one of Maura's hands in her own, looking down at it. She didn't speak for a while. Instead, she just drew circles on the back of Maura's hand, her eyes staying locked downward.

"I don't want it to be just sex."

"It wouldn't be," Maura assured. "I—" She stopped herself. "I care for you."

Jane shrugged.

"Yeah. Well…Even friends care for each other. That's not…it's…I don't talk about things. And that's what you deserve. You deserve someone who can talk to you about their hopes and fears and dreams. I don't. I don't like to, and I don't know if I…if I ever could."

Maura's chest felt heavy as she stared at the woman she finally realized she loved. She watched her warm chocolate eyes get glossy from sad, ashamed tears, and she didn't want to do anything else in the world but fix this.

"Don't think that," she said quietly.

She squeezed Jane's hand firmly.

"But I can't," Jane whispered back.

"What're you doing right now?"

The question hung heavy around them. Maura could hear Jane's breathing slow until she wasn't breathing at all, her eyes searching Maura's hazel ones, confused until they brightened with a clarity of understanding.

And then Maura couldn't see anything because Jane was on top of her, kissing her, demanding her to move with her. Maura had expected it to be hurried or desperate, but it wasn't. It was territorial. It was firm, but loving. _That's_ what took her breath away. That's what made her heart hammer in her chest. That's what made her bones ache for Jane and what made the throbbing in her core get more pronounced.

The slim chance that maybe this woman loved her back.

Truly.

Jane pulled away, hovering just above her, and Maura took in a deep breath.

"I…can we just…?" Jane blushed and bit her lip, sitting up the rest of the way. "Hold me?"

The question was timid and clear and desperate in a different way.

Maura was nodding before she thought to answer, and Jane's hands were pulling her up. They walked to Maura's bedroom, Jane's hand squeezing Maura's for dear life. They changed out of their fancy clothing as fast as they could, reconnecting their touch as soon as was possible under the covers.

And Maura held tight. Even with her smaller frame, she wrapped her arms around Jane from behind, tangled their legs together, and didn't let go. She nuzzled her cheek against Jane's nearly bare shoulder, letting out a contented sigh.


	11. Where I Knew You

**Chapter 11**

Maura woke to an empty bed and a note with empty words.

And that's how she felt.

Empty.

She should've felt worlds lighter because she couldn't feel anything inside her body, but she felt like she was weighed down by steel.

Because now that she was alone, she realized how silly she was to even _consider_ that woman loving her back. The woman wasn't _real_. How in the hell could she _love _her?

She was both mad at herself and crushed at the realization. And the two emotions didn't click. Being angry was supposed to make her fiery but the depression seeping through made her want to do nothing at all, so stuck between the two walls of emotions crashing down around her, Maura was left with only one mood choice. Cranky.

She couldn't seem to wipe the frown off her face as she got ready. She dressed quickly and poured herself a cup of coffee, but did not have a sense of urgency. She drove slowly, holding back the urges she felt to yell and scream at anyone who cut her off.

Where were all of these…feelings coming from? Normally, she was calm and reserved. She usually wasn't passionate about…_anything_. But now she felt the need to slam on her horn and flip off anyone who even encroached on her car.

Her buzzing phone startled her, and she frowned down at it. It would have to wait until she got to work.

She parked in the parking lot and headed for the building. She squinted at the little print on her phone as she walked up the stairs of BPD. Susie had sent her information, and even though the report was just a floor below her, she still wanted to read the results. She jolted when someone fell into step with her, and she glanced up to see it was Riley.

"Hello," she said warily before looking back to her screen.

"Hey!" Riley said back, almost brightly. "You have a good morning so far?"

"Not really," she muttered.

Maura knew it would be rude to ask where Riley changed her opinion about her, but she still felt the very strong urge to do so. And with her still bitter mood from the morning lingering, she almost didn't care about what Riley thought at all.

"You get anything on the Pfeiffer case yet?" Riley asked, undeterred.

"Yes." Maura went back to squinting at her phone. "And if I could read it I would tell you. But it appears you'll just have to wait until I get down to my office—"

She got cut off as someone knocked into her shoulder, nearly sending her off balance.

"Watch it Doctor Death," he muttered without even breaking stride.

Maura didn't stop walking either. She just bowed her head to hide her blush as she continued toward the elevators. When she arrived, she looked up, only to find Riley was no longer with her. She looked over her shoulder; Riley was standing back where the collision had occurred. Just standing. Staring after the man, then turning her head to look right at Maura.

She looked torn about something.

Maura just entered the elevator and headed for her safe haven. And speaking of safe haven, she wondered how Juliet was doing. That cursed woman who made her feel everything. Everything good, everything bad.

* * *

Casey reached out and cupped her cheek. Jane smiled hesitantly but allowed herself to be guided forward until their lips met. He leaned into her more, cupping her neck to keep her there.

When his tongue slid over her lips, she shrunk away, biting her lip and averting her gaze.

"What's wrong?" he asked with a frown.

"N-nothing," she said warily, a crease forming in her forehead as she knitted her eyebrows together, her lips pressing together in a line.

"I just…I didn't think this would be so…hard."

"_What_ would be?" he pressed.

Inside the van across the street, Topher and Beale were having a shouting match.

"What's going on?!" Topher yelled into the phone, typing wildly on his computer.

"Nothing!" Beale protested. "They were just talking!"

"_Talking_?! Beale, her heart's beating a thousand miles a minute—"

"I can hear—"

"That's like 'I just ran a marathon' or 'I'm about to come all over you' speed!"

"She's not doing either of those—"

"Well I _know_ that, man friend. No brainwaves in the pleasure center. But _what_ are they talking about?!"

"I can't hear them over your _shouting_!"

"I…" Jane paused, forcing herself to look in Casey's eyes. "I have this sort of…tugging in me. It's telling me to…cling to you."

She stopped talking and frowned, her eyes falling to look at her fidgeting fingers as she considered exactly how to say what she was feeling.

"But I can say honestly," she continued slowly, as if weighing the price of each and every word, "That I've fallen for someone else."

"What?!"

Although Jane had only heard Casey's surprised exclamation, Topher and Beale's identical ones rang out loudly.

"What in the _hell_ is she talking about Topher?"

"I don't know!" Topher exclaimed, wedging the phone between his ear and shoulder to better type. "I'm looking at her imprint right now! Anna Daniels, 29. Tomboy at heart, but rather femme in a relationship. Casey's her high school sweetheart. Never dated anyone else, never even had _eyes_ for anyone else—"

"Well then you must've done something wrong," Beale snapped.

"I don't make mistakes—"

"_You're kidding me, right?!"_

The two immediately stopped talking at the sound of Casey's voice coming through Jane's microphone. They waited with bated breath to see exactly what would happen.

"Why would I be kidding?" Jane asked quietly, wedging her fidgeting hands between her thighs. "I…I love someone else."

He gave a bitter laugh, leaning back in his chair.

"Oh, this is just _gold_," he mutterer sarcastically. "I know I said hard to get…"

Jane's brow knitted in confusion.

"Beale," Topher hissed, "Get in there before he blows our cover. Dolls can never be told they're Dolls; their minds couldn't handle it. You remember how well Dr. Saunders faired—" Beale was already climbing out of the van.

Casey stood up violently and Jane did the same.

"I'm…I'm _really_ sorry, Casey—"

"Who?" he asked loudly. "Who could you possibly love?!"

She gave the smallest smile, the slightest hint of adoration in her eyes as she thought.

"I don't know," she said with a laugh. "I…I don't even know her name…but I love her."

Casey opened his mouth to respond, possibly yell, but Beale's loud, persistent knocking at the front door made him reconsider. He walked to the front door, Jane shadowing him to see who it was. Her eyes lit up at the sight of her handler.

"Beale!" she said brightly. "What're you doing here?"

He shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"I went to pick you up at your apartment, but you weren't there. Your…your roommate said I could find you here. I just…I figured you didn't want to be late for your treatment…" He was stumbling over all the lies, trying to keep all the facts about her current imprint straight _and_ get her out of there. He didn't miss the glare Casey was giving him either.

"Oh, shoot!" Jane breathed. "I totally forgot about it! I'm…I'm sorry Casey…but it's kind of important."

"Go…" he said glumly.

She smiled apologetically at him as she slipped out the front door.

Casey took a step toward Beale. "I expect a—"

"Refund," Beale finished for him with a dismissive wave. "Yeah, yeah. I got it. Have a good day."

He caught the bite in his own voice and frowned as he turned back to the street. How was it that he was actually starting to care for this…this shell of a woman?

That was a problem for another day.

"Hey!" Jane exclaimed as he got into the van and shut the door. "Thanks for that. Even though my treatment isn't for another hour."

He shrugged.

"Not a problem."

"That timing was _perfect_! Seriously? How did you know I would need any help?"

He tensed.

"Say her roommate called you. Said she was worried," Topher said into the phone.

Beale was happy for the invisible Bluetooth in his ear. That was for sure. But he didn't speak right away. What was her name…name of the roommate…Michelle? Mary? Melissa…?

"Margaret," Topher laughed at Beale's silence.

"Margaret called me all worried," Beale said to Jane, ruffling his own hair and leaning back in his seat. Jane chuckled.

"Damn, I must've been acting strange, huh? But…how do you tell a guy you don't love him after twelve years of dating? And you can't even give him a name?"

"What makes you think you love someone else?"

Jane smiled to herself, looking down at her lap.

"Because…It's kinda like I've got this…this really old, really faded picture in my head. And…Every time I think about it, and…and the woman _in _that picture I just…I just feel…good. It doesn't even make any sense, but I don't even really…care. I just love her. Plain and simple…I didn't even think I was gay."

Beale laughed.

"You seem pretty okay with it."

Jane shrugged.

"It's kind of hard not to be. It's not like I can just get her out of my head, is it?"

"Right…"

Beale cleared his throat and looked away.

* * *

A few days later, Maura called the Dollhouse without much internal battling. The homicide's most recent case had everybody baffled. No leads, no clues. No witnesses. And Maura really didn't have much evidence to give them, even with the slowly increasing body count. At the current moment, she felt responsible and just needed someone to sit with her and tell her something, anything, comforting. Sex wasn't even necessary.

The phone only rang once.

"Go for Topher!" he cleared his throat. "Err, I mean, Adelle Dewitt's office. What can I do you for…or who do you want to do for…oh, never mind."

Maura frowned.

"May I ask where Adelle is?" she asked as politely as she could.

"She's uhh…she's got her hands full…"

A muffled crash came over the line.

_"Caroline! Drop that right now or I swear to God—"_

He laughed nervously, covering up the background noises. "But I can help you. You setting an engagement?"

"Yes," Maura confirmed, swiveling in her chair and biting her lip just thinking about the brunette. "For tonight."

"Alright, who's your kryptonite?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand your reference."

"That's okay," he laughed, "I got your records right h—Oh."

"What?"

"Juliet's your regular."

"Is something wrong?" she asked, panic lacing her words with a shrill waver.

"Not…really…" he said slowly. "We've been having some…issues…"

"She has always caused you trouble."

"Yes. Well…now she's rejecting clients. No matter what imprint we give her. No matter how many times we wipe her."

Maura's heart dropped. She didn't like the idea of even risking being denied by the beautiful, lovely…perfect woman…Then again, she really could just take the risk. It might even be good for her. It would almost be like a real date. Instead of there being no chance of rejection, a cushion she loved the Dollhouse for, maybe she needed to try and move forward. Try real dating. This could be her transition.

"It's alright, Topher," she said carefully. "I just need someone to have a relaxing night in with. But I would appreciate it being with a girlfriend. I will risk the rejection."

She swore she could hear him shrug.

"Alright. If that's what you want…we'll give you a refund if anything goes wrong—"

"Don't be silly."

"That'd be a lot of wasted money, Dr. Isles."

"The human brain is a very sensitive, very complicated system. The fact that you have this much control over it is impressive. Expecting there to be no glitches or bugs would be foolish and arrogant of me."

He laughed. "Foolish and arrogant…right. Tell that to all the other clients."

"This problem has happened to lots of others?"

"Just Juliet's. But yeah…A lot."

Maura felt a pang of jealousy at the thought of anyone else touching Juliet. But she was also consoled by the fact none of them had recently been about to with Juliet's denial streak.

"That's…that's too bad. I'm sorry so many people are small minded."

"Nothing you can do. What time you want Juliet over?"

"I get off work at six, so would…six-thirty work?"

"Yup. One type B, not horny girlfriend, ready to comfort, coming up."

"Thank you, Topher."

"Sure thing. Gotta go, Dr. Isles. Have a good afternoon."

"You do the same. Goodbye."

She hung up with a sigh, only to have Riley burst in.

"Another body, Dr. D—Isles. You want a ride up?"

Maura tried to hide her frown.

"Do you really want to give me one?"

"Why not?" the detective shrugged. "I'll be out front."

Although it was not the warmest of interactions, at least there was interaction…right?

Maura frowned, feeling slightly guilty because instead of being grateful, all she felt was a little irritated. And with all the negative feelings swimming around in her chest, she almost felt at her wits' end. Maybe she just wasn't meant to have companionship at all.

She stood and grabbed her bag, trying to block out all her emotions as she fought to find the 'work' compartment in her mind.

A light knocking made her turn around.

"Detective Cooper?"

"Umm…" The brunette looked away, down at the floor. "I uhh…God, I'm sorry, Dr. Isles…Can I…maybe…talk to you?"

Maura bit her lip to hold back a smart remark.

"Yes," she settled for.

Riley took a couple hesitant steps into the office.

"I just…I wanted to…apologize."

Maura's eyebrows furrowed.

"What for?"

She tried to remember any transgression Riley had done to her and none came to mind.

"I…I wasn't really the nicest when we met. Or…after…And that wasn't really fair of me. I didn't know you."

She took a breath.

"It just seemed that you were so…well off, and I really just didn't think you knew…what it was like."

"What…_what_ was like?"

"Being not well off."

"I'm not sure I understand," Maura said honestly. "I am well off. I'm sorry if that bothers you, but—"

"In that sense, yes. You have money. But then…then…you don't have anything else…it seems…"

She shifted her weight and rubbed the back of her neck, trying to force herself to look Maura in the eye. Amber caught Maura's hazel eyes, and they looked _so_ sincere.

"And I'm sorry if I thought _you_ thought you were better than all of us."

Maura didn't know what to say. Shock caught any words she would've _wanted_ to voice and held them in her throat. Was this a joke or a lie or a ruse?

She sucked in a breath, holding it and waiting to see if Riley would say more.

"And I see _now_ that you…you think too highly of us and too little of yourself. And I'm sorry if I had any hand in solidifying that…belief." Riley frowned. "We're just a crappy buncha assholes, Maura. You shouldn't even give us the time of day, much less wanna…impress us."

Maura looked at her hard, as if unable to understand.

"You're not nothing…" she said quietly. "You're more than I could ever be."

Riley laughed, but Maura persisted.

"No! I'm serious. You _care_. You care about people and you're kind to them—"

"You don't get it do you? If someone, or a group of people, sets it in their mind to _not_ like someone, they just won't, no matter what you do. If you think you're better than everyone else, then they see you as arrogant and snobby. If you _don't_ see yourself as better than everyone else, but you are, everyone'll just hate you for being too perfect."

"But—"

"No buts! You're not so bad. We just…we ain't been fair."

"Life isn't fair."

Riley gave her a disapproving look.

"I'm sorry, anyway. Would you come to the Robber with us tomorrow? Please? I'll go in with you. I'll leave with you. Hell, I won't leave you alone for a second if you don't want. I just…please? Come?"

Maura's mind wasn't keeping up with the kindness, much less the invitation.

"I'm sorry. Can we go back?"

"To…?"

"Why you're even speaking with me."

Riley opened her mouth to, what Maura guessed, yell, but she reconsidered.

"Because. How…how you handled that guy in the hall the other day. You just…didn't even blink at how horrible he was with you. And then…and then I didn't do anything about it, when I should've. I should've beaten the guy's brains in, but I just watched."

Maura forced a smile.

"I wouldn't want any association with me pulling you down," she said evenly. "You're new. Let them 'be fair' with you, as you so eloquently worded. They wouldn't do that with me around."

She cleared her throat at Riley's horrified look.

"Now you should probably get going before you're late. I'll drive myself."

Before the detective could protest, Maura slipped past her, careful not to bump her.

* * *

Six-thirty on the dot, Jane was coming through her door, dropping her keys in the specified bowl and making her way over to Maura.

"Oh, you've got a case?" she asked understandingly.

"Yeah," Maura mumbled, shifting around the photos she had laid out. "I'm sorry," she offered. "I was really looking forward to a relaxing evening."

"It's okay. You had dinner yet?"

"Oh, honey, you don't need to." Maura was surprised at how easily the pet name slipped out.

"Sure I do."

"You can cook? I don't think you've ever…"

"Offered?" Jane laughed. "No. It's not my best talent, but I'm alright. Got a few Italian staples permanently engrained up here." She tapped her head as she went for the kitchen. "If I'm being too loud, tell me and I'll shut the hell up."

Maura just smiled to herself. No signs of rejection yet. Then again, it was mostly just…slightly more than friendly things they were doing. She shook her head and focused back on her case. She looked at all the different bodies and how similar everything was. She tried to note places where trace evidence was on all the bodies that she had _already_ discovered, then based on those, going over the other bodies and highlighting places where she should probably look come tomorrow morning.

She was interrupted by Jane, who gently put the plate beside her on the couch before disappearing again back into the kitchen to clean up. Not even bothering to look to see what it was, Maura started eating, stifling a moan at the first bite.

"You've been holding out on me."

Jane chuckled and plopped down on the far end of the couch.

"Quit your whining and eat," she teased, flicking on the television and turning the volume down low.

Maura tried her best to oblige, taking bites as she continued to look over the case file, but her attention was already taken entirely by Jane. Without even having to look over, she was totally enraptured, feeling her subtle shifting on the couch, catching every time her head tilted from her peripherals.

She cleared her throat finally, looking over to Jane, who immediately looked over, thumb nail still between her teeth.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, pulling her finger away. "I'm distracting you, aren't I? Jesus, I'll just—"

"No!" Maura exclaimed, almost too loudly. "I mean…yes, you're distracting, but…You're just…distracting because you're…there and I'm…here."

Jane's eyes softened in adoration.

"You don't have to ask," she said quietly.

She untucked her legs from under her, stretching them out and opening her arms up. Maura looked at her hopefully, unable to move right away. She just stared stupidly, her eyes wide, her gaze flitting from the open arms to the honest brown eyes and back.

"C'mon," Jane gave an impatient shake with her hands.

A bright grin spread across Maura's face. She grabbed the necessary papers and scooted over, turning her back to Jane and relaxing against her. Jane's arms wrapped around her waist, giving a small squeeze before turning her attention back to the TV.

In the safety of Jane's arms, Maura found herself instantly able to concentrate once again. She chewed at the end of her pen, scribbling notes down with every new idea. It wasn't until she felt a light tickling at the back of her neck did she remember the physical world. Jane behind her. Holding her. Kissing her neck. Just…being there.

Her kisses stayed light, like she didn't realized she was doing it, and Maura felt a new emotion flood her chest.

Relief.

It filled her until she was warm everywhere, and for the first time, she realized what warm really felt like. Jane's thumb rubbed gentle circles under the hem of her shirt, her chin coming to rest atop Maura's shoulder.

And it was so overwhelming, Maura felt herself falling back into her usual routine. Crying. But it was a totally relieved, totally safe kind of crying.

"Oh, babe," Jane whispered in her ear, guiding her to roll over.

She hugged Maura tightly to her chest, kissing the top of her head.

"What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," Maura sniffled. "Absolutely nothing."

"So…what's with the waterworks, sweetie?" Jane asked soothingly, her fingers dragging gently across Maura's scalp, through her hair, over and over.

Maura tried to stop her crying, but she couldn't. She had truly and completely feared losing this woman. She didn't know how to live without her, and having to face that had shaken everything she believed in. Tonight she was supposed to be rejected by the same glitch as everyone else. Why hadn't she?

She fought the hope bubbling up inside her, smothering it down with a new wave of tears.

"Everything was supposed to go wrong, and…and it didn't…and I don't know…w-what to do," she whimpered honestly.

She had nothing to lose. Jane wouldn't remember the conversation tomorrow.

"Why would everything go wrong?"

Jane pulled her up so she could look right in Maura's glossy eyes.

"I thought…I t-thought maybe you…loved s-someone else," Maura forced out through hiccupping breaths.

Jane's brow furrowed and she sat up a little straighter, putting a distance between their bodies.

"What?"

The word was sharp.

"I just…" Maura inhaled deeply. Now or never. "I have this…this…_fear_," she worded carefully, "that you love…someone who isn't…me…"

Jane's frown deepened. She ran a hand through her hair, suddenly freezing as realization flooded her face, her fingers still buried in her dark curls.

"You mean you thought I was cheating?"

Maura hadn't even thought it would sound that way. Oh. Shoot. What…how…how to salvage…?

"No!" She exclaimed. "I just…You can't help who you love, and sometimes I worry that you are with me but you don't…love me because you just love…someone else."

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter who. Just someone who isn't…me." Maura paused. "I'm just making this worse. Just…forget I said anything."

She grimaced at her wording.

Jane seemed equally perturbed, sitting there with a slightly confused frown, the look in her eye something Maura could not place. A fresh wave of frustrated tears crashed over her, and she wiped them away as she sat the rest of the way up.

"I'm horribly sorry, Jackie," she said hurriedly, hiding her blush. "I should've never said anything…"

She went to stand, but Jane caught her wrist firmly. Maura hesitantly looked back at her; Jane's usually warm chocolate eyes were unreadable as she studied Maura in return. They stayed that way in silence for long moments, eyes locked, unmoving.

"How long have you felt that way?"

Slowly, Maura sat back down on the edge of the couch. She closed her eyes and tried to physically fight against her pounding heart. Tell the truth. Talk to her as if she remembered all their dates. She took in a deep breath, and, praying to a higher power that she was speaking not to Jackie but the person hidden deeper, she let out the air with her answer. "As long as I've known I loved you."

Silence encompassed them, and curiosity overpowered Maura's fear. She looked carefully over to Jane. The brunette was staring at her lap, unconsciously massaging her palms. A tear leaked out from the corner of her eye, and it broke Maura's heart. She wanted to reach out, but she didn't know how.

Jane's eyes slowly looked up to meet her gaze.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

_No, I'm sorry!_

Maura's mouth didn't move. She just stared horrified at Jane, unable to comprehend.

"I am so…so sorry that I left room for…_any_ doubt. I…I'm sorry I didn't kiss you every chance I got or hold your hand wherever we went. I'm sorry I didn't tell you more often how…_wonderful_ you are to me and how _beautiful_ I think you are."

She paused to wipe away another stray tear, sniffling once.

"I'm…ashamed I didn't show you every minute of every day how special you are to me and how _lost_ I would be without you in my life…"

Maura realized she was crying when cold tears dropped onto her hands. She clenched her jaw to try and stem them, but they continued. She didn't hear anything else this woman had to say, because even though the words should've comforted her, they just made her more confused. Who in the hell was speaking to her, right then? Was it Jackie? Or was it someone else? Was the glitch fixed? Or did this woman really love her?

She didn't care.

She flung her arms around Jane's neck, crashing their lips together even as she continued crying. Jane's hands cupped Maura's sticky cheeks, whimpering.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against Maura's lips.

Maura shook her head and kissed Jane urgently, cupping the back of Jane's head and holding her close.

"I'm sorry, too," Maura whispered guiltily.

She was sorry she had ever _used_ the brunette. She was sorry she would continue using her. She was sorry for whatever happened to her and for falling so madly in love with her.

She was so incredibly sorry.

Even so, they were yanking off their clothes and reconnecting; Maura was desperate to feel skin, soft and warm and alive against her own. Jane seemed equally rushed, hands clumsily pulling at Maura's underwear, yanking them down her thighs and over her knees. And with both of them finally completely exposed, Maura wasted no time in reclaiming Jane's lips in a bruising kiss.

It burned. Actually burned. Every place Jane's hands touched her, her skin felt scorched and marked and so, so hot. Her lungs felt tight, as if their maximum volume had been lessened. Every movement was frantic as they fell back to the couch, like no matter how much they kiss and bite and touch and claw, it still wouldn't be enough. Jane's hands trailed fire down her ribs, she tried simply to breathe, unable to focus on anything else. Her heart slammed forcefully in her throat, the pounding only increasing with Jane's shocking caresses.

Jane kept their lips sealed tight, her tongue exploring, teeth brushing. She didn't leave Maura alone in her pleasure. She was right there, her fingers not teasing but filling Maura right away. The honey-blonde could only hold on, her fingers tight in their grip in Jane's curls.

Only minutes with Jane's skilled fingers and she already felt a tingling deep in the pit of her stomach. Kissing Jane harder, she dug her nails in, and Jane reciprocated with an urgent noise, somewhere between a growl and a moan, thrusting her fingers deeper. Maura's hips met her in their set rhythm, breaking her lips from Jane's to gasp for air, only to whimper. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut tighter, pulling Jane into her shoulder.

She came harder than she had in a while, her moans collecting in her throat as she tried to contain them, her grip on Jane so tight she feared she might actually be harming the woman. Blood rushed in her ears like crashing waves, drowning out any other sounds. Her erratic heartbeat had her nervous. How long had she been holding her breath? It would beat forcefully a few times, then stutter, and in the few milliseconds before it beat again, Maura felt as if she was witnessing her own death. Like it wouldn't actually ever beat again. But then after the unusually long span between beats, it would keep going.

It pounded forcefully against her chest in the same irregular pattern for minutes, and it was all she could focus on until the beating evened out into a reliable, predictable rhythm. She then found herself staring up at the dark, wet eyes of her love.

And she once again didn't feel like she was enough. And she once again was back to the frantic kissing and touching, pushing Jane up and onto her back on the couch, taking her turn to pleasure. Her lips found Jane's before wandering elsewhere. Jaw, shoulder, neck, collarbone. Anywhere within proximity of Jane's lips. She wanted closeness, and as her fingers slipped and traced down the subtle hills of Jane's body, she settled where Jane needed her most and set a steady rhythm.

She focused on everything. Jane's hitching breaths and tensing grips. Her low moans at every light bite to her neck. She didn't want it to end, afraid what would happen when it did. Here, they were safe. There was no end or beginning. No Dollhouse or arguments or lies. Just as Maura wanted it.

It didn't last, of course. Not at the frantic speed they were moving. Jane clenched around her fingers, her muffled cry sending a chill right down Maura's spine. She waited for the moment to end. For them to go back to fighting. She had nothing to worry about, though. A few moments of rapid breathing and a couple tears later, Jane was once again clawing at Maura's skin.

Through the whole night there are many more desperate apologies and begging for forgiveness, plenty more tears, and more rounds of orgasms than Maura had ever had.

They never made it off the couch.


End file.
